Choices In A Dragon's Lair
by Anlynne
Summary: When Hermione is left at the Malfoy Manor she becomes a prisoner of war, but it's not at all like she feared. She has choices, and those choices will forever effect her future.
1. Chapter 1

There is no copyright infringement intended.

Chapter One

No-Good Mudblood

The drawing room of the Malfoy Manor was blurred. It swam in her vision as she was held upright by Bellatrix. Through the dulling pain like shards of glass traveling through her veins she was aware a trickle of hot yet insignificant blood trickling down her neck where the dagger was pressed.

_Ron... Harry..._ She tried to keep her eyes open, but they closed. There was so much going on, her brain couldn't register it. Suddenly she fell, she hit the ground roughly. Something fell on her. A pain she could hardly feel. It was nothing compared to the curse. Nothing was compared to that.

"Hermione!" Someone yelled her name. It was familiar... Sweet... Ron...

Everything slipped away.

* * *

Harry lunged forward, one hand on Dobby's thin wrist, the other on his struggling friend's. "Dobby! Now!"

There was a crack, and they disapparated. Harry let the house-elf take them. It didn't matter where they went, because anywhere in the world was safer than it was at the Malfoy Manor. Being captured there... Hermione who was still there...

_There was no time_, he told himself savagely, but it wasn't going to soothe the ache he now had in his chest. He left her behind. He left her there, and she could be dead. She was under a chandelier, what was the chances she survived that? _No, she had to survive, she's Hermione!_

The spinning stopped, and their feet came in contact with solid ground. He stood uneasily to his feet, and nodded his thanks to the giddy house-elf next to him.

"Hermione," Ron breathed hands on his knees. "Hermione," he sobbed.

"We had to leave her," Harry insisted taking a good look at their surroundings. They were in a forest, a completely random dark forest. "I'm sorry, mate, I love her too, but we had to do it, or we were all going to die." How many times would he have to tell himself that before he believed it?

"Hermione."

"Snap out of it, Ron! We'll get her back." Did he believe that?

Ron glared at him, a dangerous glint Harry had never seen before flittered through, and for the first time he was scared of his best friend. "What if he kills her first? What if Malfoy _kills_ her? She's nothing to him!"

Harry's jaw tensed. What if they did? Ron was right, Hermione was nothing to the Malfoy's but a no-good mudblood. To them, her best friends, she was everything. If they lost her... Harry looked away. "Come on, lets set up camp. We need a plan."

* * *

Draco cursed loudly clenching his empty fist, but he doubted that anyone heard him. His family was still yelling at the escape of Potter, and Weasley. Then it broke when his father laughed.

"We got _her_." He pointed to Granger, bushy haired know-it-all. The person of his demise. The girl for without reason he was attracted to since she decked him their third year. The girl had quite a punch to her. She was strong, emotional, delicate, intelligent, and beautiful at the same time. She was everything. And he cursed again when he saw her beneath the chandelier. He ordered his body not to move to help. Not until he had orders. No one could know what he felt for her. It sickened him sometimes.

"Draco! Get her to the dungeons. I'll see what she knows later. Must see to the Dark Lord first."

He picked himself out of the corner of the room, and proceeded to move the pricey chandelier off of her, and scooped her up in his arms. She fit... How strange was that? He moved past his family, and down the stairs leading to the cellar. He took his time. The Dark Lord would be there soon, and he rather not be found in the presence of them. The Wizard revolted him.

His feet slicked on the damp cellar's floor, a thin sheet of sweat shining on the stone walls. He set her gently in the center, her body limp, and helpless. He sat next to her pulling his knees to his chest. He brushed her hair out of her face, and wiped the trickle of blood from her neck. He held it up his face. Red. Normal. He glanced down at the pretty Witch.

_I can't keep her,_ he scolded silently to himself. He cursed for a third time that night, and bent down to bury his face in the crook of her neck, into her wild hair. She smelled of sweat, and dirt if dirt had a scent. Despite it all her skin was soft, and he found his lips were pressed to her jugular. "I'll keep you safe," he whispered knowing she wouldn't hear much less remember, but he meant every word. "I won't let them hurt you. Somehow I'll get us both out. I swear. I'll do anything."

A/N: This story is in the point of view of five characters: Harry, Ron, Hermione, Draco, and Blaise. Harry, and Ron however will not be in it as much. All of their views won't be told in every chapter.

This is a love triangle, but please don't make assumptions as to who Hermione ends up with based on one of the two characters listed. I put Draco in that slot because most of the story takes place in the Malfoy Manor.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Granger

_Blaise,_

_We have Granger._

_Draco_

Blaise swore flinging the note into the lit fireplace where it crinkled burning black. He swore again, and again while he shoved a cigarette between his lips, and lit it with his wand. He grabbed his robe from the chair of his desk wrapping it around him.

His best mate Draco liked the Granger girl. He saw it too. How she walked, talked, laughed, smiled. She was entrancing. Unlike Draco who teased her throughout their life he kept his distance. After all, if his friend knew anything of it he would certainly feel his wrath, and he preferred to keep a low profile. Though it was the Malfoy's that were in the most danger. Voldemort depended a lot on them. The Zabini's, or more like Zabini as he was the only one was there for back-up. He wasn't depended on in the least, and he was thankful for that.

How did he get himself in the dark arts? His mother was... Busy. All the time. Blaise raised himself, and he longed for power, followers. He never received either, nor did he receive the Dark Mark. It became something he was thankful for every day after seeing the pain it caused the people around him.

He pitched the Floo powder into the fire making it glow emerald casting light on his forlorn bedroom. He stomped his cigarette out on the floor with the toe of his boot (it wasn't safe to floo, and smoke at the same time, and only he would know from the burn on his hand when the cigarette flew years ago, that, and the Malfoy's banned it). He stepped through calling out Draco's house. In a second's time he stepped out into the Malfoy's lounge. It was empty, a few candle's lit to cast a ghostly shadow on the leather couches, and chairs, the rug beneath. In one of them sat Draco, his blonde hair illuminated oddly by them. He seemed much older, tired, paler, and worn.

"I'm sorry mate," Blaise said. There was nothing else to say. He knew this was killing his friend. It wasn't doing much for him.

"They left her," he growled. "Her best friends left her under a fucking chandelier to die. If... I would've... Killed them. I hope they die. I hope they all do."

"But not Granger."

He tugged at his hair. "I don't know what to do, Blaise. I don't know how to get her out of this without someone dying."

"Good to know you're still thinking of yourself."

Draco ignored him. "She's with my father now. He's giving her Vertiserum."

Blaise felt suddenly cold. If Granger told them anything valuable they would kill her. If she didn't they would keep her as bargaining ship. He hoped she had nothing to offer.

"I know," Draco read his thoughts. "I hope she doesn't..." He trailed off, and Blaise was eclipsed in shadow. He glimpsed up to see Lucius, his son a younger clone of him.

"The wretched girl had nothing to tell us," he muttered.

The glance was so quick that no one would've caught it. Blaise's heart that had once been racing from nerves was settling, and he saw the shimmer of hope in Draco's eyes. _She's safe. For now..._

"What're we going to do with her," Draco asked.

"Keep her here. Potter values her life greatly. He won't leave her here for long. When he comes to rescue her, we'll be ready. Potter will be ours, and then, we'll murder them all." It was said in monotone with out emotion. He was reciting from the thin, harsh lips of the Dark Lord.

Blaise's blood ran on freezing. He didn't care about Potter. He didn't care about Weasley. He didn't care for any one of them, but for Granger. Ultimately she would be killed. He hoped that Potter took his time. He needed enough time to get her out of there. With Draco's help, of course.

"I've decided son, that you may have her." Lucius sat elegantly on the couch. "Do with her what you like, you know her best."

"What are you suggesting, father?"

Lucius' gave a grimaced that seemed to be more of an attempt at a smile. "Do you think I don't know you well enough? I see that you care for her."

"She's a mudblood, I realize that."

"Enough of it, Draco. You know my feelings on the Dark Lord now. You know we only have so much time left to us, and I will see that we're happy when our time comes..."

Narcissa entered from the opposing door her hands wringing in front of her. "Draco, son, if she makes you happy, make her happy. I fear that your father is right. The Dark Lord is not happy with us, and if we don't change that soon... If she makes you happy..."

Unconsciously Blaise's fists clenched.

* * *

Her head spun, and the room along with it. There was an echo of footsteps, but as light as they were they made her brain pound harder against her skull. She forced her eyes open seeing two sets of expensive shoes. That couldn't be right. Harry, and Ron didn't own expensive shoes. Harry didn't care about what he wore having to always wear hand-me-downs from his cousin, and Ron simply couldn't afford it. Her eyes slipped closed again.

It punched her in her gut then. She remembered where she was at. What happened. At least some of it. She couldn't recall every detail, but they were kidnapped. Voldemort's name was taboo, and Harry accidentally said it. They were taken to the Malfoy Manor. She was tortured for information, and then given Vertirserum. She tried to remember what she said, if she gave any useful information away. She tugged at the memory examining it.

_"What is your name," Lucius asked._

_"Hermione Jean Granger," her mouth forced to say._

_"How old are you?"_

_"Seventeen."_

_"Have you been traveling with Potter, and Weasley?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Where have they gone?"_

_"I don't know."_

_"What have you been doing?"_

_"Hiding." It was relief to find that partial truths could be given. They were in hiding, but they were searching too._

Finished with scrutinizing the memory she felt profound relief. She hadn't given anything away. Harry, and Ron would be safe. They were safe. They escaped. She knew that somehow. Nothing else mattered, as long as they were okay.

Something pried her jaw open, warm liquid cascading down her throat. She choked, and sputtered, but swallowed. Instantly her head was clearing of the fog, and pain. She no longer felt nauseous, and she could see. She saw the damp room, and felt the sheen of sweat of stone under her. Her eyes roamed the ceiling, and then onto a dark skinned boy, and a boy as pale as the moon. Malfoy, and Zabini. She let out a strangled screamed, and Malfoy clamped a hand over her mouth.

"Goodness Granger, don't wake the dead." Her eyes widened in fear, and he quickly added, "no one's dead. Your friends got away. If I take my hand back, will you be quiet?"

She nodded, and he let go. She sat up sharply inhaling the cold air, and shivered. Her clothes were worn, and thin, not to mention dirty. She missed the feeling of being clean, and safe.

Zabini shrugged off his robe throwing it over her shoulders. She flinched in response of his kindness, but he seemed not to have noticed it. "Th-thank you," she whispered.

"Listen, Granger," Malfoy said commanding her attention. "We're not going to hurt you. None of us. You're safe here."

She could hardly believe what she was hearing. Malfoy was offering _her_ comfort? "Am I?"

Zabini touched her shoulder, but pulled back when she recoiled. "You're safe."

"I'm a mudblood," she stated.

Malfoy rolled his eyes upward. "That aside, no harm will come to you."

"Why?"

"What is this, Granger? Do you want us to hurt you?"

"No," she replied quickly. "I just... Don't understand."

"That's a first," he muttered.

Zabini glanced at his friend, and back to her. "The Malfoy's have failed to capture Potter. Their time is limited with the Dark Lord."

"We're going to live how we want. The Dark Lord is not only killing off mudbloods, but purebloods as well. It's not the life we expected to live." He looked to Zabini. "Watch after her, take her to one of the bedroom's, I'm going to see if the Dark Lord is gone."

* * *

Blaise listened to Draco's footsteps climbing the stairs until they faded behind the closed door. He grinned for the first time at Granger. She slinked back as if afraid.

"You don't trust us, do you?"

"Give me a reason to."

He chuckled. She had a point. They never gave her reason to trust him, constantly being on the other side of the war, fighting against them. Despite that he had a reason. "Because we're the only ones you can trust now."

"Harry -"

"Is gone. They both left." He raised a brow. "They left you here. For all they know you're dead."

She shifted uncomfortably. "If they didn't leave we would've all been killed. It was best if they left me here. It was smart." She glowered at his disbelief. "They care about me. They wouldn't have done it if they had a choice."

He tried to be objective putting himself very temporarily in the disgusting shoes of Potter. Would he be able to leave her? She was under a chandelier, hurt, possibly dead. Would he had gone? No, he decided it quickly. He couldn't have. How could they?

He held out his hand. She moved further from him.

"Hermione," he spoke her name for the first time. It tasted sweet on his tongue. "I have no desire to hurt you, if I did I already would have."

She considered this for several long moments. He kept his hand outstretched waiting. Then she broke the distance placing her hand in his. He smiled at the sight of it. He squeezed, and apparated them upstairs in what he knew to be the best room of the Manor.

* * *

Cherry floor, and furniture, a fan slowly spinning above her. A bed large enough for seven adults. A wall of glass overlooking an expanse of field, wildflowers of gold, blue, and green, a cluster of trees. The setting sun.

It was no contest. It was the best bedroom Hermione had been in. Everything about it screamed elegant, and beautiful. Details of flowers were carved in the bedposts, and wardrobe.

"Wow," she breathed. "Whose is this?"

"Yours," he answered simply. "Do you like it?"

"Love it."

"Good," said Malfoy's voice from the doorway. "You'll be spending a lot of time here."

She crossed her arms over her chest in defiance. "If you're not going to kill me, why not let me go?"

"Because my aunt, and a handful of other Death Eaters know we have you. As far as they're concerned you're staying in the cellar. Only my parents, Blaise, and I know you're here. So keep quiet."

"Draco," Zabini rebuked, "she's scared. Why doesn't she stay with me? My mum won't know the difference."

"It's best if we're both here to keep an eye on her. Don't underestimate her - she'll try to escape."

"I won't," Hermione promised. She was desperate to get out of the Manor. Prisoner of war, or not she didn't want to stay there. "Please."

"No," Malfoy said with finality looking over her shoulder at the window. "It's getting late. Get some sleep."

Hermione felt her heart break, but she didn't miss the flicker of... She didn't know what emotion crossed Malfoy's features, but it was different from the hatred, or disgust that normally shown there.

The door was left open after he left through it for Zabini to follow. Zabini instead gazed at her. It was soft, and kind.

"Don't mind, Draco. He's under a lot of pressure."

She nodded numbly watching Zabini walk out. This time the door closed, and a click signaling she was locked in.

Hermione turned to the window. Harry, and Ron were out there somewhere. She was alone in a house full of their worst enemies. A single tear escaped trickling down her cheek.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Breakfast

Blearily Hermione awoke to the last place she expected to be. Where was the beige tent? Where was Ron's snorting? Harry's worried pacing? In place of what she imagined was silence, and an expansive window greeting her with blinding daylight of a clear blue sky.

She bolted to a sitting position, the silk covers pooling at her waist. She looked to her right, and got out half of a scream before a hand was covering her mouth.

"It's just me, Granger," said Zabini sitting beside her leaning against the headboard. He released her, and rolled off the bed.

"S-sorry," she apologized ignoring the fact that he had been in the bed with her. She didn't want to know why, probably to make certain she wouldn't try for an escape.

"It's all right." He pointed to a door in front of her. "The bathroom's through there. A bath has been run, and clothes are in there," he pointed to a wardrobe.

"Um, Zabini, I don't have anything to wear."

"Mrs. Malfoy went out last night to buy you some things. I'll be back in an hour to take you down to breakfast."

"Breakfast?"

He chuckled darkly. "When I said we weren't going to hurt you I should've told you we plan on taking care of you as well." He winked, and left.

Hermione was dumbfounded. The Malfoy's taking care of a mudblood. Her of all people. Mrs. Malfoy had actually bought her _clothes_. She shook her head climbing out of the bed. She crossed the room, and peeked her head inside of the bathroom.

It was as lovely as the bedroom everything done in a calming blue. A circular blue bathtub filled to the brim with steaming water, and sink, the edges of the mirror also blue. The wall like the one in the bedroom was in glass showing the same field, flowers, and trees.

She shed her clothes, and stepped in. She took a cloth scrubbing her skin. She dipped in soaking her hair. There was soap, and a razor, all the things she needed. There was a large white towel on a rack for her. She covered herself stepping out. She couldn't recall being cleaner in her life.

There was a soft knock at the door, "Miss Granger," a woman's voice called softly. It reminded her of music.

"Yes?"

The door opened, and in stepped a beautiful woman with long blonde hair, and light blue eyes. "Miss Granger," she greeted gently. "I'm Narcissa Malfoy."

Hermione felt her blood run cold. She suddenly wished that Malfoy, or Zabini were close by something she never thought she'd ever wish for.

Mrs. Malfoy read this. "Don't be frightened. I'm here to help. My husband, and I have your wand. I thought you'd might like to have your hair dry." She brought out her wand. "Do you mind?"

Hermione surveyed it apprehensively. There was nothing to lose. She nodded, and closed her eyes in fear as Mrs. Malfoy moved her wand over her hair. When she announced that she was done, Hermione chanced a glance in the mirror. She thought she would see a terribly disfigured face staring at her, but there wasn't. Her hair that was usually a frizzy mess was smoothed out in waves. It was astonishing how much better one could look after a bath, and a spell.

"Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy. For the clothes too."

"You know... I've always wanted a daughter. I hoped, and prayed that Draco would be a girl." She chortled. "You're a lovely girl, Miss Granger."

Hermione looked to her curiously. A lovely girl?

"We've made mistakes, we realize that. We're trying to right them. Starting with you. You'll be safe here. No one will hurt you. You're more protected than your friends."

Tears welled in her eyes. "Please, if they... Come here... Don't hurt them." She could see in her mind's eye Harry, and Ron coming to rescue her, abandoning their search of the Horcruxes. If only she could get word to them that she was safe. She had come to accept that she was. If they were going to torture, or kill her, they've done a great service to her seeing that she was clean.

Mrs. Malfoy gently touched her hair. "We'll protect you, but there are no promises for your friends. If Potter shows up here..."

"Please, no."

"Your friend's have gotten out of every kind of scrape they can get themselves into. I wouldn't worry about them." She held open the door for her. "Come on now, Miss Granger, get dressed. Breakfast should be served."

* * *

Draco ambled into the dining room seeing his father at his usual post at the head of the table with the Daily Prophet, and then his best mate leaning on the two legs of the chair his boots propped up. Draco shoved them off earning a resentful glare from Blaise.

"Where's Granger," Draco demanded. "You were supposed to bring her down."

"Your mother went up to fetch her."

He plopped in a seat next to him. "Keep your feet off my table." He looked towards the door waiting for Granger to come through. "Did you settle into your room?"

"Yeah, thanks for letting me stay here."

"The more to watch her."

Blaise snorted. "Give her some credit, she's probably never been treated like a princess before. She might not want to leave."

Draco shook his head. "I'll give you several reasons why she'd want to. One of them is that she's a prisoner, we're keeping her here against her will Second: Her friends Potter, and Weasley are out there. Three: We've been her enemies for as long as she's known us, she's not going to trust anytime soon."

He elbowed his ribs, and nodded to the door. Draco turned in time to see his mother walk in. Automatically the men at the table stood, and her father held out her chair as he had done all of their marriage.

His breath caught when he saw the angel walk in.

Granger was clean of the dirt, and grime, her hair in shiny waves. Her new jeans, and shirt fit her, not hanging off her body like the loose skin of an elephant. There was light blush over her cheekbones, and her lips shimmered. She was stunning in all honesty of the word, better than when he saw her at the ball. She had been dressed up, and now she wasn't, she was casual. In a way it was better. It was real.

At the same time Draco reached for a chair to hold out for her, so did Blaise. They glowered at one another, but Blaise retreated. Idly he wondered why he would hold out a chair for her anyway, but blew past it the way he did the furtive glances his parents shot at each other.

Granger's lip curled into a smirk sitting in the seat. He puffed out his chest in pride, and sat on one side of her as Blaise did same on her other.

Their China plates filled with mouth-watering food, and they tucked in. Draco noticed her etiquette, the way she placed her napkin in her lap, her elbows off the table, and back straight. Why it surprised him he wasn't sure, perhaps it was because he spotted Weasley stuffing his face rudely at the Gryffindor table, he was so grossed out that he didn't look to Granger. _She will fit in here,_ he found himself thinking.

A soft cough from his father alerted Draco to his staring, and he quickly picked up his fork spearing his food.

When they were done, all evidence of their food disappeared from their plates leaving them clean, and sparkling. Draco stood lying his napkin by his plate. He stopped halfway when Granger spoke.

"Thank you..." She shrugged, "for everything."

His parents beamed, but in a flash it was gone. The door burst open bouncing off the wall. Aunt Bellatrix with her wild black hair, and her eyes darting around the room landing on Granger. They glinted.

Simultaneously Draco, and Blaise placed themselves in front of her drawing their wands. Draco wanted to see Granger's expression, how scared she was, but he didn't dare give his aunt an opening. She wasn't beyond cursing her nephew.

Aunt Bellatrix cackled at this twirling her wand in her fingers like those Muggle batons. "Oh, is it ickle Granger? What is she doing here," she directed it to her sister.

"Bella, she's a prisoner -"

"NO," she shrieked. "Cissy, she sits at your table, she eats your food! A prisoner stays in the cellar, and eats the flesh off of the rats! Your son, and this Italian boy defend her! Where is my sister?!"

A bright light, and Draco was flown across the room hitting the opposing wall, Blaise dropping beside him. He coughed in surprise watching as his mother, father, and aunt duel, lights like fireworks blasting.

Granger laid on her back bleeding from the corner of her mouth. It felt like he was blown with another curse. She was hurt. He grabbed the sleeve of Blaise's robe, and shook him. "Get to Granger - take her. Now!"

Blaise ran to Granger's side as Draco took position beside his father to fight. He didn't have her for a day, and already she was hurt. He was disgusted with himself.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Pieces of Stress

With a wet cloth Blaise wiped the blood from Granger's mouth. His finger touched her lip, and he looked up to see her staring at him with an expression he couldn't read. He didn't want to know what it was. It was best if he didn't. Whether she was aware of it or not Draco liked her. He wasn't a Hufflepuff but he did have loyalty, and he wouldn't betray his best mate. It might also have to do with a bit of fear. Draco would surely hex him good if he made a move on her.

"The curse didn't hit you full force. I think you'll make it," he tossed the cloth to the corner of the room.

"Thank you, Zabini," her voice soft, and... Broken.

Blaise sat next to her on the bed, he rested his head on the headboard. He studied how her cinnamon hair spilled over the pillow, her chocolate eyes deep, and sad framed by dark lashes. There were twenty-two very light freckles over the bridge of her nose.

"It's okay now," he assured her. "It's over."

"No it's not..." She sniffed, "I won't see them again, will I?"

He cringed. She was speaking of her friends. "Probably..." It was his luck, his, and Draco's luck that she would be taken from them. They knew their enemies well enough to know that they wouldn't stay away for long. Sooner or later they would be breaking into their house to get her. It would be sooner. If it took them years, it would be too soon.

"I miss them."

Cautiously he hovered his hand over her head. He debated whether he should. It was a short debate. He felt her hair, softer than he would have imagined. He caressed her, running his fingers through it watching out the strands slid through. She tensed only slightly before relaxing. "I'll stop if you like," he told her.

"It's okay... It's soothing..."

He moved down lying beside her. He could tell she became worried, but he smiled reassuringly at her stroking her cheek with his thumb smearing the tears. "They're safe."

"I know. Y-you'd tell me if they were...?"

"Yes, I would." He focused on a random spot on the headboard. "If anything does happen... You'll be taken care of."

She choked out a sob. "I don't care what happens to me. I _need_ for them to be okay. If t-they come h-here. You'll kill th-them."

It stabbed him to hear her concerns for them, and he felt his face wince in response. He expected no less from her, of course she loved them they were her friends, but without them, without her knowing of their safety she would continue to be worried, in pieces of stress. He felt a need to comfort her. He didn't hate Potter, or Weasley much. Draco did. Draco held a grudge for Potter refusing his friendship, a bruised ego that festered, and grew according to his lifestyle. For Blaise, he simply didn't like them. He liked Granger, oddly out of all the girls in Hogwarts it was her that caught his eye, yet he kept his distance. Draco could call her all the names he saw fit, but he couldn't lie to himself, or to Blaise. He cared for her. They both did.

"I'll make you a promise," he said. "If I can help them, I will. If they come here, I'll defend them. I'll try to keep them from getting killed."

Her eyes grew to the shape of saucers. "Really? Oh, Zabini, thank you!" She threw her arms around his neck.

Blaise stiffened under the sudden show of affection, but quickly loosened, and draped an arm over her waist. He could smell the sweet cocoa butter scent of her. He got as close as he dared, his cheek against hers. It was too close, too intoxicating. He couldn't help it, he pecked her cheek wondering how it would feel to kiss her lips. She bristled, and he stopped, but not swaying from his dreams of those soft, flawless lips.

"Don't you two look comfy."

Blaise, and Granger jumped apart staring at Draco in shock. "Draco, it isn't what it looks like!"

Draco smirked. It was a good sign. He wasn't mad. "I know. I know my best mate wouldn't betray me." Wrong. There was a meaning underlining his pleasant tone. He was more than mad, he was furious.

Granger contorted in confusion, and Blaise feeling rather guilty for his former ideas directed the conversation elsewhere. "What happened?"

"Father hexed her. They locked her in the cellar for now. Mum's going to use Polyjuice potion to infiltrate her. It'll work for a while, but the Dark Lord will figure it out. It bought us some time."

"What will we do when he finds out," Granger inquired.

"Get the hell out of here." He sighed. "Granger, I need to speak with Blaise here for a minute. Do you mind sharing?"

She shook her head staring out of the window. Blaise didn't have to read minds to know that hers was on her friends. Those irritating, infuriating friends. He touched her shoulder in way of goodbye, and left following Draco into the hall.

* * *

It took every bit of self-control that Draco had not to wrench Blaise off of that bed, and hex him, or make Granger proud, and beat him up like a Muggle. No, it wouldn't make Granger proud. She would angry if he had done any of those things. Somehow he knew that.

Despite the self-control he believed he had he slammed the door of the study. He hoped Granger didn't hear it, it was only down the hall from her. Blaise didn't startle though. He kept his face cool as Draco advanced on him.

"You like her?"

Blaise nodded.

"Since when?"

"Third year. A year before you."

"And you're telling me now?"

"It was third year, it didn't mean anything."

"It does now," Draco seethed. Fourth year, when it became acceptable to date he tortured himself over the fact that he couldn't have Granger, much more than he had in their third year. Least did he know that his best mate was thinking the same thing. "You lied to me."

"You never asked me if I liked her."

He felt his pulse calming from its erratic beat. It was true, he never asked Blaise. What was there to ask when he thought he hated her as much as he let on? The Weasley girl was pretty, and though Blaise was attracted to her he said he wouldn't touch a blood-traitor. Maybe not a blood-traitor, but he didn't seem to have any problems with mudbloods. _The irony_. "What do you think we should do about this?"

Blaise sighed. "Protect her. Keep her as happy as we can."

He caught what he was saying. Granger was sad. How could she not be in the situation she was in? What if he was kidnapped, and had to live with the Weasley's? He shuddered at the thought.

"Draco... I promised her that I'll help Potter, and Weasley when they come."

He couldn't have heard that right. "What?"

"I promised her that when her friends come here looking for her that I'll help them, I'll keep them from getting themselves killed."

He breathed slowly through his nose, an attempt to divert himself from the idea of grabbing his wand. "You. Got. To. Be. The. Stupidest. Wizard. Alive." With each word he took a step until Blaise was flat against the wall his hands raised defensively. "Why would you promise her something like that?"

"It made her happy," he answered as if it were obvious.

"We can't do that! We have a job to do -"

"Your life span has gotten considerably shorter since last night, and you're worried about your job?! I don't know about you, but this is a facade to me. My job right now is protecting her!"

Draco staggered back. He ran a hand through his blonde baby-soft hair. "When did this happen to us? When did we start protecting mudbloods?"

"Since we met the one girl who's worth it. She's not a mudblood, she's a Witch. Plain, and simple."

He fell into his desk chair. "Blaise, my friend, this is anything but plain, and simple." He liked the girl his best mate was falling for. At the same time they had to protect her from the people that wanted her dead. The same people they worked with. Nothing was plain, and simple anymore.

* * *

Hermione laid on her side watching the wind blow through the trees swaying the flowers in the field. She clutched one of the many satin pillows to her chest. She mused at where her friends were at, how they were getting by through Harry's cooking. It was a good guess that Ron wasn't doing it, he hated cooking. She thought of Luna, and Ginny. Ginny was probably in hiding with her parents. All she knew of Luna was that she disappeared. _Oh please let her be alive. Let them all be alive._

"Granger?"

She craned her neck to see Malfoy standing awkwardly in the doorway a pile of books in his arms. "What're you doing, Malfoy?"

"I figured you'd be bored here. I brought you some books. I can't have you roaming in our library. Just in case." He dumped them on the bed.

She picked each up scanning the titles some of Runes, and Arithmancy. She smiled. "You have a nice collection."

"Thank you." He jabbed a finger at one. "I got that one on my vacation in France. This one is from Egypt. Ah, this is my favorite, I bought it in this small shop in Beijing."

"I didn't know you liked to study."

He seemed offended. "Haven't you ever noticed my marks, Granger? They're almost as high as yours."

She blushed, "I'm sorry, but I..." She fingered one of the bindings hugging it to her like an old friend. "This is really nice. Thank you for this."

"This is to get you through today. I'll bring more tomorrow."

"Won't you stay?" She realized what she asked the moment it came out. She was asking Malfoy to stay with her. She was craving social interaction that badly? Yes, she was. It hadn't been long that she was stuck in that room staring out the window, but to think it was the only scenario she'd see was rather depressing. She idly wondered what it would look like covered in snow when she realized how depressing _that_ was. She hoped she would be long gone before the snow came to find out.

Malfoy complied sitting on the edge of her bed. "There was something I wanted to discuss with you."

"Yes?"

"Blaise told me of the promise he made to you..."

Her heart soared. Was he going to make the same promise? Two people to look after Harry, and Ron?

"I don't think it's a good idea."

Her heart plummeted. "Why not?"

"If they came here a battle will break out. I can't help them while I'm protecting you."

"And you hate them," she added.

"I hate them," he concurred. "Blaise is indifferent."

"I'm scared for them."

"You have reason to be. I have with good mind that you're their research guide. Their reference. Without you they're lost."

She glared. "If that's supposed to make me feel better, it doesn't."

"It wasn't meant to."

Hermione downcast her gaze. "You hate me too?" _Of course he does._

"No I don't."

She looked up in surprise. "You don't?"

"I thought you were smart, Granger."

Her cheeks heated. "I'm sorry if I don't think that making fun of someone qualifies as hospitable!"

Slowly he took her cheek between his thumb, and forefinger. This action astounded her. Malfoy was touching her. Malfoy was touching her, and he wasn't hurting her. This couldn't be happening. Perhaps it was all a dream, and she would wake up in the tent.

"Does keeping you safe, and bringing you books qualifies as being hospitable, because I believe I'm trying here."

"Why now," she challenged. She had to know.

"Why not now? I made a mistake. A life-altering mistake that will in due course effect the lives around me. I'm taking a go to fix that."

Vaguely she smiled. "I'm no longer a mudblood?"

"I've seen you bleed, there's no mud in your veins."

"Malfoy?"

"Granger?"

"You're still..." She glimpsed at the hand still holding her.

"Oh." He let go, and she wished he hadn't. Where had that feeling come from?

There was a sharp rap at the door, Zabini knocking the frame with his foot. "Lunch," he announced carrying in a tray of sandwiches with a bottle of Butterbeer. He set it on the bed.

"Thanks, Zabini." She felt the pangs in her stomach, and grabbed one biting into ham, and cheese.

"They're starting a meeting, Draco. You better get down there."

Draco gave her the briefest glance holding something she didn't recognize. "Okay... Look after her."

Hermione watched him go, closing the door. "What meeting," she asked Zabini.

"Death Eaters."

"Why aren't you going?"

He raised a brow. "You think I'm a Death Eater, Granger?"

She was confused. Why would he be in the Malfoy house if he wasn't a Death Eater? Wasn't there a rule in place that you couldn't get through if you didn't have the Dark Mark? "Aren't you?"

He shoved his right sleeve up revealing perfectly tan skin that was bare where the Dark Mark should have been. She touched his forearm barely believing it. "Why are you here?"

"I'm Draco's friend."

"You support the -"

"I think we made it clear that the Malfoys, nor I support the decisions made by the Dark Lord," he replied hastily, almost harshly.

She pressed her fingers to her forehead feeling a headache coming on. Zabini pulled her arm down kissing the spot her fingers had been. It was burning hot, and... Placate. Her stomach reacted with a jolt, the same way it had when he kissed her cheek.

"There are a lot of gray areas in life."

"There doesn't have to be."

"There's not a rulebook for life, Granger. Many of us make it up as we go along, and the rest of us usually has their plans destroyed. I'm sure you didn't plan on meeting two boys that would put you in this situation."

"They didn't put me in this situation, I wanted to come! I wanted to fight with them! I made my decision. I don't care where it landed me. We make our choices, Zabini."

"And sometimes others make it for us. Answer me this, Granger, what if your friends don't come for you? What will your choice be?"

"I'm a prisoner. I don't have the choice to go outside as I please, or go anywhere but inside of this room. I don't have any choices."

"You don't see? You have three choices. You can choose Draco, or you can choose me. If you prefer neither of us you can go your own way, mind you. Three important choices that _you_ alone make."

Hermione creased her eyes in effort to make sense of it. What was he saying? What choices did the two of them offer? How could she go her own way when she couldn't leave the room?

It clicked together when he took her hands holding them in his. He stared at her intently his eyes black masses of the deepest night.

"This can't be happening," she muttered.

"It is."

"How can you...?"

"Easily." He kissed her knuckles freeing her from his grip. "I'm sorry if I've made this harder on you. I didn't mean to. Really, I'm not even a choice. As Draco's friend I've stepped away in case he had the chance." He shook his head in despair as though thinking that it wasn't how he wanted the conversation to go. He gathered himself, and stood. "We'll protect you, whatever the cost."

She deciphered the meaning of that statement easily. _We'll protect you whatever the cost, even at the cost of our hearts._

A/N: I'll mention here that there is going to be 16 chapters.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Legilimency

The tent was hidden deep in the nameless woods. Ron sat in the corner of it fingering the blue bag that Hermione left behind. They were lucky to find the tent abandoned, and lucky to get out of there before any Death Eaters apparated to destroy it completely.

He tried to wrap his mind over what they did. He shouldn't have left her behind. She could be dead, and it would be all his fault. He should have wrenched from Harry's grasp, he should have hexed Bellatrix better when he had the chance.

Harry, and him had hardly spoken since that day. They did things automatically without conversation. It was too lonely without her presence. Ron looked to the couch more than once expecting to see her with her nose in the children's book that she took to reading since it was left to her in Dumbledore's will. Harry now lounged there scanning the book he couldn't read for it was runes. Only Hermione was able to read it, and he knew what she would say,_ "honestly, if you took your classes more seriously, and took Runes like I advised you, you wouldn't be in this predicament, would you?"_ He smiled sadly at that thought.

"Stop reading that thing, Harry," he suddenly spat. "You can't read it!"

"There might be something in here that isn't in Runes," he said calmly used to his angry mood.

"It's all in Runes!"

"I don't see you doing anything!"

"I say we go back!"

"We can't go back, they'll be expecting that."

"Hermione could be..." He couldn't finish that sentence, but knew his best mate understood what he was trying to say. "Did you think of that?"

"We have to have hope."

"It'll be your fault!"

The book slammed on the table. "I'm going to keep watch outside."

"Fine! Go on!" He clutched Hermione's bag like a life saver, the only flotation device in the abyss he was drowning in. "Be alive, Hermione," he quietly pleaded. "We need you."

* * *

Three long days Hermione received piles of books to read throughout the day. She read them all, devouring the new words, losing herself within their pages. Blaise (his first name that he insisted she call him the day before) stopped by twice a day to keep her company. Malfoy stayed busy with Death Eater meetings, and short missions.

Late afternoon she pitched the last book to the edge of the bed moving to lie on her side facing the window, her only insight to the world outside. There was a strong wind, almost swaying the trees from their roots, the clouds dark, a hint at oncoming rain. She hoped for a storm. It would be the most interesting event in her day. Her eyes were strained from reading she constantly did, but she couldn't complain, Malfoy had never been so sweet, and she was grateful for the books. She missed them while she was traveling with Harry, and Ron.

From the corner of her eye floated a brand new shiny wireless setting itself on the desk in the corner of the room. It was small not taking up the space entirely. She narrowed her eyes not believing that she would be lucky enough to use it. She looked up, and saw Blaise putting his wand in his pocket smiling that dazzling smile of his, his eyes sparkling.

Her own widened. "You're letting me use a wireless?!"

He shut the door softly. "For that Potterwatch one of your Gryffindor friend hosts. Just... Keep it low. They're always downstairs these days - something is up, but I thought you might want to hear how your friends are doing."

She jumped from the bed, and flung herself in his arms. "Thank you, Blaise."

It was shocking that only days ago she was revolted at the idea of him touching her, but that day he wiped the blood from her mouth she realized that he was right to begin with. She trusted them because for the time being they were the only ones she could. They became… Friends. He spent hours talking with her about everything. They laughed, she found that he was funny, and despite his horrible addiction to cigarettes she was attracted to him. The way his eyes sparkled with mischief.

"Sounds so sweet," he told her sincerely, his breath hot on her neck, "when you say my name."

She hugged him tighter his hands running from her waist to her hair tangling his fingers in it. He tugged her back his lips brushing her cheek. He locked eyes with her, and she could see that silently he was asking to kiss her.

Hermione suddenly remembered that she had a choice. Between him, and Malfoy. Malfoy was rarely around, and when he was his disposition towards her didn't change. He was still cold. Blaise was... Sweet. There was no choice. Not in her eyes.

She brought herself to her toes closing the breathless gap between them. She pressed her lips to his, his fingers curling in response. It was sweet, and yet dark. It was addicting, and she pulled his neck down bringing him closer to her. She needed more. She needed to drink in more of him. His tongue flickered across her bottom lip, and she groaned. She thought her hair would be taken from the roots as he held her closer.

* * *

Draco slammed the door to his room. He saw his Death Eater mask lying on his bed. He picked it up, and threw it against the wall. The sound of bone on wood, the clattering, unbreakable sound.

He gritted his teeth, and took the stack of books from his nightstand. He spent most of last night in the library thinking of what she would like. There were loads of dark art books there, more than any other kind, and he had to choose carefully. He thought idly that once she read every decent book there was he would go out, and buy her more. Perhaps he could borrow some Polyjuice potion, and take her out himself, let her choose. They could go to dinner afterwards, discuss what she bought, discuss anything.

He was jealous of his best mate lately. He spent the most time with her. He spent a total of two minutes every night delivering the books to her. That was it, and it wasn't enough. If only he knew what to say he would stay there longer. What did someone say to a prisoner they were trying to keep safe? He wanted to say sorry for the grief he gave her for seven years. Books was the best way he knew to do that, because he didn't say sorry. Malfoy's didn't do that.

Draco carried the books down the hall. With his wand in his clutches he turned the knob, and prodded it open with his foot. He almost lost the grip on the books by what he saw. Blaise, and Hermione embracing... Kissing...

Right there his heart was wrenched out, stabbed, stomped on, every imaginable pain that could be done to it he felt. His blood was boiling, and he wanted nothing more than to drop the books, and hex Blaise, for more reason that just betraying him, but because Hermione, _his_ Hermione was enjoying the snog. He could read her mind, and "enjoying" was a pathetic definition for what he saw. She shouldn't be loving it. Not one bit.

For once in his life he swallowed his colossal pride, left the books where he stood, and walked away. He would be the bigger Wizard, but only because of what he saw in Blaise's mind. He was not used to attempting to read his mind, it was the first time he tried to, his defenses of Occlumency let down. What he saw in it was the only reason that he could leave.

* * *

She tasted like fresh mints. The ones that were left on her dinner plate no doubt. He removed his hands from her hair to travel down her sides gripping her hips. She had no idea what she was doing to him. He was going insane, and it wasn't safe, not in a room with a bed. If he kept going, he might never stop.

The second Blaise pulled away he felt the hunger for her hit him. He wanted to taste her again, once more before he left, but if he went back he wouldn't quit. _Not safe_, he told himself sternly.

He didn't look at her eyes. They were as dangerous as those lips. "We can't," he croaked.

"Malfoy?"

He shook himself out of his lustful thoughts to stare at her blankly. Malfoy. Draco. His best mate. The girl he was snogging was... "Oh shit," he mumbled. "Oh shit, oh shit."

"That's not the reason?"

"No it's..." He couldn't form the reason to her, that there was a bed. She was smart, and she knew what he wanted, but to say aloud that was what he was _thinking_, and _considering_, well... He simply couldn't risk the possibility of having her believe he was pressuring her. "Don't tell Draco about his."

"He already knows," she said matter-of-factly. "He was here." She pointed to the doorway where laid five books.

"Oh shit," he repeated.

"I'll go talk with him -"

"No!" He wasn't putting her through that. Draco could be waiting to hex someone. "No, I'll go. I'll talk with him." He was halfway out when she spoke.

"I'm sorry, Blaise."

He retraced his steps back to her capturing her mouth. He felt the inside of her mouth, and then let go running his fingers over her soft cheek. "Don't be sorry, I'm not."

"But Draco's your friend."

"And I'm his. He'll learn to accept this."

He went over picking up her books, and laying them on the bed. He winked at her, and left to see his friend. He knew where he would be and he was.

Draco sat in the study, the last room at the end of the hallway. He had his ankles crossed, feet on the desk twirling his wand idly in between his fingers. He stared right at him, daring him to come forth.

Blaise was not known to back down to dares, and he closed the door coming up to the desk. "Drac -"

"I saw why. Don't bother to explain." Blaise waited, and he continued. "You love her."

"Like her."

"I _felt_ your mind."

"I was thinking of the bed, Draco. You obviously had to see that."

He swung his feet to the floor standing up. "I saw that. I saw the bed, the floor, the wall, the effin' desk! What I _felt_ was love. Disgustingly idyllic."

"For one that feels it himself," he countered back.

He hung his head. "Why _her_? You can have any girl you want, Blaise, why her?"

Of the onslaught of questions he expected from Draco that wasn't one of them. He could answer why he kissed her. That was obvious. He could answer why he came into her room. After answering that he could answer why he given her the wireless. The one question he had to ask was the one he didn't know himself. "I'll step away," Blaise promised.

"No... You can have her."

He felt like he was being led into a trap. "You're not known for being generous... Why?"

He lifted his head, the candle's making his eyes flash. "Because I saw her mind too... She may not be aware of it, but... She loves you too."

A/N: I know this happened very quick, but it would be extremely boring if I posted all of the conversations she had with Blaise, so I tried tell what it was like those days.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Potterwatch

"Meeting dismissed," announced his father.

In the dining room - which had more than one use (meals) then - it was a great room for meetings. Spacious like many of the rooms in the Manor, and it was dark, and official enough. There were no colors on the ugly off yellow walls, and black shiny floor. There were no windows, and barely enough light to tell comrades apart.

Draco tried to take his time standing, and shaking hands with ten of the Death Eaters gathered. He congratulated them, wore a smile. Hid his real feelings that were threatening to erupt to the surface, and blow their cover.

He tried to take his time moving to the door, and to the staircase. However, at the top of the second floor he risked his role, and broke into a run. He hammered his fist against Blaise's door twice before walking in.

Blaise sat on the floor separating his money into ten galleon piles. Without looking up he asked, "how did the meeting go?"

"They got Potterwatch," he hissed.

He stared at him. "Potterwatch... How -"

"Does it matter? They're announcing right now that Potter is dead. This is all your fault Zabini! Hermione is listening in thinking that her friends have been murdered!"

"Hermione?"

"Your _girlfriend._"

He raised a brow. "You said her name."

How could Blaise be so calm? Didn't occur to him that Hermione was in distress, and needed someone? "What does that have to do with anything! I think you should go see to her. Now!"

"I'll go talk with her," he promised getting to his feet. "But first, tell me when you stopped using her surname?"

Draco knew the answer to that easily. He noticed it that night when he caught her, and Blaise together. "When I realized that there's no danger of me having feelings for her. I can use her name without attachment."

Blaise shook his head in pity. Draco hated when he did that. "Mate, you've been attached to her for a long while. You wouldn't have warned her about the Death Eater attack at the World Cup, and failed to identify her, and her friends in the drawing room, and refuse to give her up to the Dark Lord. Why else would you do those things?"

Draco sneered. He could feel the fuse of his temperament shorten ever more quickly the longer her was in the room. "Go see to her." He slammed the door on his way out stomping his way to his room, and he slammed that one as well.

If telling partial truths meant lying, then he lied to Blaise. It wasn't only because he knew couldn't have her, and therefore no harm in using her name, even in his own thoughts. It was because he knew he loved her too. The moment his heart was ripped out of his chest when he saw them. He knew it then.

Slytherin's weren't known for being loyal. Quite the opposite when it came to their own self-preservation they would give up their partner in crime, their best mate, their brother. That's what they were known for. For being sneaky.

There was something that many people didn't know about Slytherin's. When it came to love, they were as loyal as Hufflepuff's. When they loved they loved as deeply as anyone could imagine. And he loved them. Blaise, and Hermione. He loved them enough to step away. It was the hardest thing he had to do, but he would do it. After all, Blaise wasn't a Death Eater. Hermione deserved at least that much. Someone without the Dark Mark. Someone smart, and gentle. She deserved Blaise, and he deserved her.

* * *

Twenty-two. That's how many steps it took to cross the room. It was eighteen from the door to the window. It wasn't a rough estimate it was never a rough estimate to Hermione. She put it to the test five times. It wasn't the least bit important, but when the books were read, and the waiting for the next Potterwatch there was little to do. She thought of counting the crakes in the ceiling, but she was in the Manor. There were no crakes.

Blaise continued to visit twice a day, but Malfoy didn't at all. Blaise started delivering the books. The reason didn't need to be discussed, she knew why. Malfoy was stepping down, and letting Blaise be with her. She was grateful for that.

Two weeks had passed She flipped the switch on the wireless routinely, and sat at the desk. Her only connection to the outside world aside from the window, but the window hardly gave her insight. If they were... She would be the first to know, even before Lee Jordan (alias River), the boy who was once commentator in the Quidditch games at Hogwarts, was now on his own show informing everyone to keep hope.

"Hello," said a new voice. One that wasn't Lee Jordan. "Your host is now... Tied up... We - Death Eaters - have taken over this station." Her blood ran in ice. "We would like to announce that your Harry Potter, the boy who lived, is now dead! He was killed ten minutes ago in a raid..." She didn't hear the rest. The roaring in her ears deafened her.

Hermione was suddenly wrenched from her chair into someone's strong arms. Blaise. "Harry," she choked before she was gripped in a tight hold. "Ron."

"Shhh," he soothed in her ear.

It hit her, a punch to her gut. Her friends were dead, and a boy in league with Death Eaters was comforting her. It was wrong. His people killed them, killed her best friends. "No, get away from me" she cried beating against his chest trying to wiggle herself out of his grip, but he held her closer constricting her. "NO!"

"Shhh, Hermione, shhh, don't draw attention, they're downstairs."

"No!"

"Listen, Hermione it's not true. They're alive, your friends are alive."

It was too good to be true. Her body went still, poised, waiting for the sick joke.

"The Death Eaters infiltrated the station. They're lying to let the Order lose hope. They're trying to break them apart. Your friends aren't dead, they haven't been found. They're safe, even that Jordan kid. I swear."

"Harry, and Ron -"

"Are alive."

She cried, but this time out of relief. They were alive. They weren't found. "Thank you," she muffled in his chest.

"I would never let you find out that way."

She breathed him in, the Muggle cigarette smoke. He said it was the best invention they ever came up with. She wished he would quit, but she couldn't ask that of him in a time they were in. She had something much more important to ask him. "I have to leave, Blaise. I need to see them. I have to be with them."

"Hermione -"

"_Please_ Blaise." She sniffed, "I won't forgive myself if something happens to them. There has to be a way." She felt his back, the muscles tightening under her fingers. "You can come with me. You don't belong here."

"Draco -"

"He can come too."

He kissed her ear. "Draco isn't going to leave, he's in too deep, and I'm not leaving him. Even if you put aside that, we're not going to let you go back to them. They're the reason you're here, Hermione. They left you."

She shoved him away, and taken off guard he staggered back. "They had to! I'm glad they did!"

"So what, you would die instead of them?"

"Yes!"

He was close to her face, his eyes wide, and his lovely russet face contorted dangerously. "Real friends don't do that! You think in that situation that Draco, and I would leave you?"

"I hope you would!"

"Keep it down," Malfoy reproached hurrying into the room. He closed the door with a soft click. "They're still downstairs." He took in their angry stances, the way they were both red. "What's wrong with you two?"

She rounded on him. "I'm leaving! I'm not staying another day here!"

"I thought you told her," Malfoy snapped at Blaise.

"I did, I told her they were alive, she wants to go with them now."

"I've wanted to from the beginning," she corrected nastily. "I've never wanted to stay here. Let me go, please, I have to find them." Her heart ached for her missing friends, her freedom, and everything she lost. She was going crazy, she could feel her sanity slipping from her. She had to get out of there as soon as possible, and she was desperate in her pleads to them, her sadness piercing each word.

Blaise shot a mean glance to her. "Can't you see that they don't want you? They don't care! They would rather save their hide, and see you dead -" He fell backgrounds clutching his face, blood leaking from the cracks between his fingers.

Hermione held the fist she launched at his nose to her chest. She began screaming not caring who listened. "How dare you! They love me! They were doing what they had to do, and I'll never blame them -" A mouth clamped over her mouth, Malfoy pressing her back to his chest. His hold was as strong as Blaise's, if not stronger, more defined.

"Shut _up_, Granger. They're going to hear you, and we'll all be dead."

She was trapped. She realized then that unless Harry won the war, they would all die. Every single one of them, not just Harry, and Ron, but Blaise, and the Malfoy's. Her life was insignificant compared to theirs, and all they were trying to do was to keep her alive. But she ached, and it was building every day. If she wasn't going to die at the hands of a Death Eater she was going to die of depression. Perhaps she would never see the end of the war.

* * *

Hermione stopped struggling, and he thanked above for that. Moving her body against his was agony. Draco was much too close to the beautiful Witch, his arm encircling her slim waist, the feel of her lips against his palm for the second time. The smell of her hair in his face. Cocoa butter. Sweet, and enticing.

He was brought of his fantasies when he felt something warm, and wet fall over his hand. She was crying. And then her weight was relying on him, and he was holding her up, her body shaking with sobs. He lowered them to the floor, and before he knew what was happening she was facing him in between his knees, weeping into the crook of his neck.

Draco dreamt of holding her, watching her lean on him as she was almost too strong for her own good. He wanted it. He wanted her. He tugged her as close as she could be to him. He looked to Blaise over her shoulder, and saw the blood dripping from his chin to the floor. The Occulmency was down, and Draco could read his mind, see pictures, and feel what he felt. It was despair, and jealousy nearly as strong as Draco felt towards him. Blaise hated that he was holding his girlfriend, comforting her when he should've been doing it, but he lost his temper.

He wanted to feel bad about it, he should lead her over to him, but Draco couldn't do it. He had her for once in his arms, conscious. It was as close as he would ever come to her. He shut his eyes, blocking the accusations, and stayed in the moment with Hermione. His Hermione. How much of his inheritance would he give to be able to say that with verity? All of it.

* * *

It was unlike Draco to let his Occulmency slip. Blaise saw him, one of the few rare times that he did. It seemed to be a pattern among them. When they were in the presence of Hermione, they both let it fall. Draco enjoyed holding her, he didn't want to let her go, he didn't care what Blaise thought. There was only the slightest twinge of guilt.

Blaise had to leave that room. He wouldn't have if he had the choice. If he bled to death he didn't want the last sight he witnessed to be his best mate with his girlfriend. He got his wand, and took his time watching the diluted blood swirl down the drain, a pale pink.

The worst feeling he felt from Draco was love. He was in love with her. He knew there were strong feelings for her, but love... He was dizzy, and somehow he knew it wasn't from the loss of blood, or the fact that he couldn't breathe through his nose.

There was a light pressure on his shoulder. He knew who it was without looking up, so he didn't.

"Blaise," said Hermione, concern lacing her tone. "I'm sorry... Here, let me help."

"I can heal," he informed thickly.

Hermione paid no mind pulling him up straight. She reached behind him for the wand in his pocket, and pointed at his nose. He felt his heart sped up. Why was he letting the very girl who broke his nose heal it? Because he trusted her beyond reason that was why.

She muttered a spell, and instantly Blaise could breath, the bleeding ceasing. He grinned, and turned to wipe the left over blood from his face. "Where did you learn that at?"

She shrugged modestly, "oh I thought I'd learn a bit of healing. You never know... It could come in handy with Harry, and Ron. They get injured more than I do," she laughed, but it was sad, like someone looking back at a funny memory, but that memory turning into a nightmare.

"I can imagine," he answered. He eyed his wand in her hand, and she held it out to him. "Thanks," he placed it back in his pocket.

She cast her gaze to her designer trainers, the ones that Mrs. Malfoy gave her. Everything was the best. "What if Draco was out there? Wouldn't you want to find him?"

The use of his given name from her lips didn't escape him. Thus far he had been Malfoy, and suddenly with a cry on his shoulder he became Draco. He was annoyed at this, it hit a recently sore spot, like poking his nose after she broke it. It was not the moment to answer her question if he would find Draco, because right then he would rather leave him out there.

"Maybe you would understand if... I told you a story."

He leaned against the sink, crossing his arms. "Go on."

"Harry, and I were in a house to see a Witch. We got into some... Trouble, and had to leave. Harry grabbed my hand, and jumped out the window with me. Earlier on when we were planning the next place to stay, and Death Eaters came, and... Ron leapt across the table to save me. Don't you understand? They would risk their lives to save me as I would do for them. They couldn't this time. They probably think I'm dead. Please let me go so I can help them."

She sounded increasingly desperate. Fleetingly Blaise wondered to what measures she would go to escape. Betraying their trust? It would be hard to do, because they had little trust in her. For instance Draco locked her door every night, and Blaise placed high security spells on her room. Of course she knew nothing of this, and that made it better, because they knew for a fact she hadn't tried. They would do anything to make her stay, and she knew, she had to, but she only asked to be set free. The one thing they couldn't do, not only because of safety reasons, but because they were too selfish.

* * *

Blaise shook his head silently as if he was unable to tell her no verbally. Her heart was breaking. She was breaking as a person, her hope crashing down upon her. She was being left with nothing except him, and he was the one that was doing it to her. Him, and Draco. She was becoming resentful, and whether they saw that or not mattered little. Hermione had a plan. She was going to break out. Somehow, someway, she was going to find her friends.

The thought of them thinking she was dead... They had to know the truth. If it was the other way around... She had to leave.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

No Other Choice

Draco pinched his nose holding back a sneeze. Despite that the library was virtually free of dust there were a lot of old, and valuable books, and many of them had that smell especially the one that was propped open on his knee. "And she gave up?"

"Yeah," Blaise said with a bit of pride in his voice.

The threat of the sneeze was gone, and he let his hand fall. It was evident that Blaise was proud that Hermione gave up so easily. He could've laughed at his friend. "When did you become so naive?"

"Excuse me?"

"Hermione doesn't give up that easily."

"And you know her better than I do?"

He could practically feel the thin ice beneath his feet, but Draco wasn't known for treading carefully at least not with Blaise. "Yes. Know thy enemy, Blaise. I do know her. She's going to try to escape."

He shrugged. "She won't be able to. We have wards up all over her room."

Draco groaned in frustration pointing at the ceiling where Hermione's room was. "We don't have just any Witch here. We have Hermione, and she's smarter than both of us put together. That's not to mention that she's a Gryffindor, and lets face it - they have guts. If she can't find a logical way out don't expect she won't use that to her advantage."

"What do we do?"

"We let her."

He snatched the book that he was trying to read out of his hands throwing it aside. He pointed a finger in Draco's face like a father would to a toddler. "What in the hell is going on in your head? We're going to let her go?"

"We're going to give her a chance," he corrected. "Eventually she'll give up."

"What if she finds a way out?"

"She won't. She has limited choices since we have her wand." Draco flicked his own the book soaring back to him. "If attempting an escape makes her happy let her try."

Hermione would try. He knew it from the beginning. It didn't matter what they did, she would find a way. There was little they could do to make her happy as a prisoner, and this was the closest they could come, giving her a chance. It had it upsides too. In time she would break down, she would give up though she had never done such a thing before in her life. It was long overdue that she feel disappointment, and failure. It was healthy.

Blaise kicked a corner of one of the thirty lined up bookshelves, and cursed.

It was also time that Blaise see that she wasn't ever going to be completely happy without her friends.

* * *

Out of habit Hermione's first thought was packing. She stood in the middle of the room scanning the things around her. None of them belonged to her. It was fitting as she didn't belong there.

She wanted to write Mrs. Malfoy, to explain, and apologize. She was nice to her as they all were, and she wished that she saw her more, but the wife of a high ranking Death Eater was busy.

Hermione knew better than to think that Draco, and Blaise didn't put up wards. She did wonder how many, and how many of them were dark spells. If they were dark she had no way of breaking through them even if she did have her wand. She was going to have to try to escape the Muggle way. How far she would get was undetermined, and she rather not focus on it. The place might be crawling with Death Eaters, and one sight of her she would become a prisoner in the cellar living off the "flesh of rats," as Bellatrix called it.

It was night. Blaise had already came in to say goodnight, and she pretended to be dead tired. She crawled into bed before he left, and stayed there for three hours to be sure he wasn't coming back to check on her. He never did, but it didn't hurt to be cautious. She was going to try to escape after all.

Escaping didn't go without guilt. Draco, and Blaise had done so much for her, and she was going to leave them. She told herself that they would be okay. They were smart, and strong. They had to understand her loyalty, but in case they didn't she made herself a promise that when the War came she would find them. She would keep them safe. She would do anything to see that they lived through it.

She stood in front of the window peering down to the ground. She was on the second story, but it felt higher. It was a long way down without a broom, or anything to catch her. Broken bones, fractures, and cuts was only a fraction of the damage it could do. There was no other choice. She tried the bedroom door, but naturally it was locked.

She took the desk chair feeling the weight of it, what damage it would do, and held it firmly in her grasp aiming at the window. It was going to be loud, and she had to jump the moment the glass broke.

Hermione swung. The legs shattered the window, glass flew everywhere. She threw the chair to the side, and stood at the edge of her jagged opening. She hesitated, an action she swore that she wouldn't do, that she didn't have time for. This was not something you gave second-thought about, it wasted time. Blaise crossed her mind, his smile, and easy-going persona, and how it changed the moment they would kiss becoming intense. Draco with his deepness, and darkness, his entrancing tempest eyes.

Silently she reprimanded herself. It wasn't the time to be thinking of them, she couldn't have that luxury. She'd feel guilt later.

Hermione braced herself, closed her eyes, and jumped.

* * *

All of their lives Draco was quicker than Blaise. Not just in terms of reflexes, but on their feet, and in the air. Perhaps because Draco was lighter. Whatever the reason for it it didn't change the fact that he was the first to catch her.

Draco's room was across the hall from Blaise. He had a head start when they woke to the sound of crashing. He'd been expecting Hermione to make a break for it, but that wasn't his first thought, it was something much worse. A Death Eater finding her. Her fighting back without a wand which was certain death. He made it to the door first, and inside made it to the broken window. He knew then that it wasn't a Death Eater.

Glass cut into his feet, and then his knees as he slid on his stomach. His father may have bought him on the Slytherin team in his second year, but he earned the right to be called quick. It was pure happenstance, and luck that he caught her wrist. She dangled from his hold, and she reached up with her other hand. He suspected that she was going to try to pry his fingers away, but she didn't - she held onto his wrist creating a secure lock.

At his side Blaise helped him in pulling her through. On the floor Draco saw her clearly. Her hair a mess around her like a distorted cinnamon halo by the light. Her face was streaked with tears. She was whimpering, and shaking.

Draco didn't give notice to Blaise when he took her in his arms. He held her close to his chest smoothing her mane, wiping the tears, and making hushing sounds in her ear. Her fist was balled up on his bare chest, but not beating him.

"It's okay, I've got you, I've got you."

Blaise coughed loudly, and Draco nodded knowing the message. He leaned over to pass her to him, his arms open to take her, but shockingly she hooked her arm around Draco's neck refusing to move. The action sent his heart into overdrive, and like a song on skip he thought over, and over, _she wants me._ He relished it, but he could only imagine the fury that it sent to Blaise.

* * *

Red. He was seeing red. Hermione would rather be comforted by Draco. She actually reached for him. Did she know that it was Draco she was clinging to, not him? Of course she knew, how could she not?

Blaise curled his fingers over his wand, but let go immediately. He couldn't curse Draco especially when Hermione was that close to him. It was revolting, and briefly he thought if he hit her it would serve them both right. He hated that thought the moment he had it. How could he think such a thing when she looked so broken. It tore at him, but the red didn't lessen.

It wasn't safe to be in that room he decided. He had to leave, and he did. He practically ran into his bedroom, he couldn't get away from them fast enough. He sat on the edge of his bed, and pulled at his raven hair in a manner that suggested that he was insane.

Blaise was the one that was kind. He should've been the one to placate her. He was the one that knew she was afraid of heights. _Stupid girl. Foolish. Stupid._ A low growl emitted from his throat when he thought of what they were doing in there, but it wasn't safe to go back, not for them. It might never be safe.

What the hated the most was that he couldn't blame Draco. If the situations were reversed he wouldn't have pried Hermione off of him. He remembered that once they were when he kissed Hermione for the first time. He would take what he could get. That was the problem with their friendship, and their relationship with Hermione. They were willing to risk it all.

* * *

It wasn't cigarette smoke that she smelled, it was... Clean linen. The fragrance of home. She didn't want to let go of that, it was the closest solace she had. Somewhere beneath the tears, shaking, and the fading feeling of falling was the knowledge that it was Draco that was holding her. For a reason she couldn't place she didn't want to leave. She felt safe, and secure. She felt it with Blaise, but with Draco she felt... At home.

She cried harder, and in response Draco's arms constricted. She loved them both. How could she when they were holding her captive she didn't know. She hated not knowing, but this wasn't something she could research. Logic didn't hold its own with these two. They were different, and dangerous, and they cared for her. She cared for them.

Harry, and Ron would hate her. All of her friends would. It was of no relevancy when she might never see them again. Perhaps they were safer without her. There was the chance that a Death Eater would follow her, and she'd lead them all to their deaths. Yes, they were out of harms way with their current locations.

It wasn't only for Harry, and Ron's sake that she resolved to stay. She couldn't leave Draco, and Blaise. That realization scared her more than anything.

She looked up to Draco, and smiled weakly. He smiled back. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I won't try that again."

He only nodded, sweeping her hair back once more. "I understand."

"I won't leave you," she promised, but bit her lip when she saw the change in his slate eyes. They had gone from concern, and caring to... Something she never saw before. It was similar to how Blaise looked at her. Red coated her cheeks in a deep blush. When she said 'you' she meant the two of them, Draco didn't hear it that way.

He lowered his mouth, and Hermione begged herself to move. It was only right, but something odd tugged at her stomach willing herself to stay. She closed her eyes when her mind was screaming for them to stay open, and she felt the lips she wasn't supposed to feel.

Without thinking anything about it she had expected Draco to be as rough as Blaise was, but he was quite the opposite. Everything was opposite with them. Draco with his rough edged personality was soft, and gentle unlike Blaise who was gentle was rough when he kissed. It was as though they were showing her a different side to their personality. Blaise was almost warning her that there he was dangerous, and Draco assuring her that he wasn't entirely.

She told herself to pull back, but she pressed forward, and felt silk through her fingers that was his hair. His thumb was soft as it brushed over the crease of her eye. He felt the corner of her mouth, her neck, and shoulder. They ran heated trails down her arms.

She had to stop, but she couldn't. There was something about those Slytherin boys that the Gryffindor girl found hard to resist.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Potion and Time

In the study Draco fell into his desk chair, his head in his hands. Distressed barely covered him. He was in despair, but that didn't seem fitting either.

He had just gotten back from his father's study where told him that they couldn't rely on Polyjuice potion much longer. Sooner or later his mother had to "return" from her trip, and when she did Aunt Bellatrix would be accounted for as missing. They were running out of potion, and time.

"Your father told me what happened."

Tiredly he looked up at Blaise leaning on the door frame. "Come in, and shut the door."

Blaise did as he was told, and hopped up on the desk his feet hardly leaving the carpeted floor. "Do you have a plan?"

"No," he admitted sulkily.

"I do. Let her stay at my house."

"Out of the question."

Blaise glared at him. "Why is it out of the question? My mum will never notice she's there, and it would be nice to have some life to that place. There's a whole new library for her to devour, new scenery. It would be the best for her."

It was a good plan. It made sense, and it was simple. It couldn't fail. There weren't any Death Eaters roaming about the place. In respect she should've stayed there to begin with. No one would have suspected anything, not like they did now, but soon would. Draco had to be honest with himself - he didn't want Hermione there. He idly wondered if she would even have her own room, or share with Blaise. He shuddered.

Draco got his kiss, the kiss he had been dreaming about for so very long, and it was better than he could have imagined. Shortly after it ended Blaise came charging into the room to heal Hermione, and clean the room of glass, and droplets of blood while Draco healed some of his cuts in his bathroom.

Hermione now had the taste of each of them, and now she had a choice. Him, or Blaise. If she had chosen Blaise then Draco would've step away like a gentleman, and he knew if it was the other way around so would Blaise. It was hardly a competition, but merely longing for the same girl, and hope that the girl chose one of them. It was too late for that.

"What would be best for her would to give her back."

"What - to Potter, and Weasley? Are you serious?"

He didn't like the idea, he hated it, but he knew that her pseudo brothers wouldn't be making a move on her. She would be safe with them. He truly believed that they wouldn't leave her again like they did. They were depressed in their second year when she was attacked by that Basilisk. They would be coming after her soon. It was a selfish act on Draco's part, but it appeared to be the best choice. For him. For everyone, but Blaise, but the end result had to be better than locking her up.

"Damn, you are serious!"

"You believe you can make her happy -"

"I CAN!"

"You're not her friends," Draco spat. "She'll never be happy until she's with them."

"I don't trust them."

"You should - at least with her. They can do more for her than we can. We set her in constant danger -"

"So do they -"

"But they're not in a Death Eater's house."

Blaise hissed a breath through his clenched teeth. "I'm not giving her up. Not to them. Not to anyone. She's _mine._"

Draco flinched at those words, but didn't go there. His friend would hex him a million times over if he found out that he kissed what was supposedly "his." He leaned back in his chair balancing them on the last two legs. She should be his. He wasn't a Death Eater, and that's when the idea hit him. "You can go with them. You're not a Death Eater."

"I'm not leaving you," he said in the same hissing voice. "Besides, they wouldn't accept me. Probably kill me."

"Not if Hermione will vouch for you, and she will. As for leaving me, you know very well that I'll be fine."

"You're on death row."

"I haven't led the most gracious life here, Blaise. The least I can do is set her free. I can't keep her. I wasn't meant to have her. You... You're more deserving." He didn't add that he could die peacefully knowing that he got his kiss. He only had one more wish, and that was for Hermione to live through the war. "You can offer Potter, and Weasley a place to stay other than that tent I'm guessing they got back. I'll cut off the connection to our fireplaces."

"You've thought about this... You're giving her up to me... To them..."

"I want her happy, and safe. This is the best way to get both. Just... Do me a favor..."

"Anything, mate."

"When you two have your first son... Name him Draco," he smirked a sharp pain in his heart at the thought of a dark kid with Hermione's chocolate eyes, and wild hair.

He chuckled. "A ridiculous name, but sure. We will."

* * *

Hermione took the wireless, and placed it under the desk. It was a horrible reminder that the last hope that was being given was gone. She hoped Lee was okay, Blaise said that he was, but it was a hopeless hope. There was no way he could be. The Death Eaters wouldn't let him live, and surely there would've been more than one. Lee was a good Wizard, but he wasn't that good.

She stood in her spot in front of the dark window. She didn't see the scenery anymore. She could close her eyes, and see it clearly as if she had them open. The land and sky was a blur. A meaningless blur.

Something squeezed her shoulder, and she turned to see Blaise smiling softly down at her, something without shape draped over his arm. Guilt bubbled in her stomach. Draco, and her didn't tell him what happened. They were going to keep it that way. A complicated love triangle was the last thing they needed during the war, though that was exactly what it was.

"Do you want to go outside," he asked.

She thought she must've been dreaming. "What?"

"I know you miss being outside. Come on, we'll go out."

"But..."

"No one's here, but just in case," he showed her the black cloak he carried before throwing it over her shoulders fastening the silver button at the neck. He pulled the hood up obscuring her face. He took her hand, and led her out her bedroom door for the first time... In a long time.

She took in everything. The paneling of the walls, the flowered wallpaper, the wooden floors that didn't creak with the weight of their steps, everything. Past a flight of steps she didn't register walking down, she was tugged out of double glass doors to the right of the expansive lounge, and out into the air. Had it always felt fresh? Ever taste as good? She sucked in a breath attempting to pull it in.

Blaise walked with her through the wildflowers she had been looking out at through glass for so long. The grass came halfway up her shins, the gentle wind toying with her hair. Her heart nearly burst with happiness at the off-taste of freedom.

* * *

Blaise wanted to believe that she could be happy. That he could make her so no matter where they were, or what the conditions were. Draco was right, he was naive. He couldn't do as much for her as he hoped, but he wouldn't stop trying. If she would be happier with her friends they would find them however long it took as long as he was with her. Draco was stuck with his fate, but Blaise still had his future, and it remained up to him. He wanted her to be his future. He couldn't make the sacrifice that Draco was being made to do, so he would make up for it, show her that he loved her just as much.

He could see under the hood her eyes lit up. She was smiling, then laughing, and then broke away from him. He reached out for her to bring her back to him, but she wasn't running, she was twirling. Her arms outstretched she spun in circles. Her hood fell, and her hair flew around her.

It was dangerous for her to be displayed like she was as if daring someone to find her. Blaise thought of making her stop, and shrouding her in the cloak, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. She was beautiful, and she was laughing. He didn't think he remembered her laughing, if he ever told a joke she simply smiled. Maybe she thought she laughed, but she never did, not truly, not without the hint of sadness behind it.

He ran beside her catching her around her waist pulling her against him. He stopped them there, rooting his feet to the ground. Her laughter dying was still playing on her supple lips. He kissed them, and rested his forehead against hers.

"Do you still want to leave?"

"Yes," she murmured.

He held her face pushing her back far enough to look her in the eyes. "Then we'll leave."

She was hesitant, she didn't believe him.

"Bellatrix cut our time very short, and we're running out of potion. I talked with Draco, and you'll stay with me. We'll find your friends, and they can stay with us too. We'll work together to bring this war to an end."

Tears sprung. "Really?"

"We're leaving tomorrow morning."

He staggered as she threw herself at him. He caught her before she fell, and spun her in the circles she was making earlier.

* * *

In an embrace they whirled patterns in the tall grass. Draco rested his head on the glass window Hermione would stare blankly out of. His fist clench in an effort to shove the feelings down. He had to obtain them for when the Dark Lord killed them he couldn't know of the feelings he felt for a certain Muggle-born. For the sake of it he should've left her room, but he couldn't tear his gaze from the happy couple. It might be the last time he saw Hermione laugh.

He accepted that his death was soon, and rather than leaving just his heart there with Hermione he would do one last thing for her to let her know that she had two hearts, his, and Blaise's, and alive, or dead it wouldn't change. He knew exactly what to do - what to give.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Goodbye

Mr., and Mrs. Malfoy, Draco, Blaise, and Hermione gathered in the lounge in front of the empty fireplace. They each took their turns saying goodbye to her. Hermione hated it. It felt like she would never see them again, and that was a thought that hurt too much.

Mrs. Malfoy was tearful as she hugged Hermione. "I'm going to miss you."

"Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy. I owe your family a lot."

"Nonsense," she insisted pulling back to press a kiss to her cheek. "I wished... I wished that you, and Draco..." She sniffed. "Never mind. I do wish I could've spent more time with you. Be happy."

Mr. Malfoy shook her hand. "Forgive us." His eyes bore into hers, and he touched her hair. "Wherever we will end up I can say that I've done one good thing in my life."

She didn't like how it sounded. She knew they were in trouble with Voldemort, but she wouldn't believe that they couldn't find a way out of it. "We will win this war, Mr. Malfoy. When we do I'll see that you'll have a clean slate."

His face darkened in disbelief that he'd have such a chance, but kissed her on top of her head, and left with his wife to give her privacy for her goodbye with Draco. Blaise however stayed leaning on a wall beside the fireplace, one leg bent under him, his arms crossed over his chest surveying their interaction harshly. Her suitcase filled with the expensive clothes Mrs. Malfoy bought for her beside him.

Without a word Draco lifted her hand clasping a silver chain on her wrist. Hermione saw a dragon, and a lion on either side of a heart. She looked at him questioningly, and he grinned smugly.

"The dragon's me; the lion's you. The heart is..." He held her stare. "Ours. In case I'm not around to remind you."

"Draco," Blaise forewarned.

"Excuse me, Blaise," he said before tugging her hand bringing her to him. She didn't think he would actually snog her, but he did. In fluid motion he was kissing her softly.s

Her lips were on sweet tickling fire. The room, and Blaise fell away in that kiss. Draco grasped her hips holding her close, the heat intensifying between them. But it was short, and she whimpered when his lips abandoned hers. She didn't dare look over to Blaise to gauge his reaction. She was certain it wasn't good, possibly murderous.

"You can come with us," she whispered, she wasn't sure why she did because Blaise could hear regardless.

"I have to stay." He ran his fingers down her arm causing chills to chase up her spine.

Blaise grabbed Hermione's elbow, and she was being dragged away towards the hearth with flames glowing emerald, but she craned her neck to keep her gaze on him only giving a short glance to Blaise. He glowered at his best mate, but said, "take care." She saw his expression closer, a blend of fury, regret, remorse, and understanding.

"Take care of her," Draco responded.

"I will."

Between the licks of flames she saw Draco nod once to her his silvery eyes shining, the familiar glint of malice she was used to seeing wasn't there. He had let his guard down, but in the moment where she was studying his features one last time she noticed it more clearly. His hair white, the fringe boarding his pale eyelashes. His cheekbones prominent, his nose perfectly straight, his skin flawless pale, translucent. It gave him the pointed look, but he was handsome.

Then in a dizzying spinning of soot he was gone. Her heart that only last night had been content was now in pain. If the Malfoy's were right about their limited time... It might be the last time she would see him. She kept the memory like a picture, and tucked it away safely. She felt the bracelet, and held it close to her. If she could not save him she would keep him. A part of him. Always.

* * *

Draco kept his composure as he watched Hermione, and Blaise leave, but lost it the second the fire died. He collapsed on the couch holding his neck, digging his short nails in, blood leaking to the surface. He choked on the sobs he refused to let escape.

He let her go. She was safe, and happy. He thought it would be plenty for him to survive the rest of his days in peace. It wasn't. Not seeing her. Not having her right there in the next room was physical pain. He never imagined he could feel it so vividly for anyone.

A soft clicking of over-priced Italian shoes announced his mother. A soft hand caressed his back.

"Son, if things were different, if we weren't... She would've chosen you."

His features contorted painfully. "If you're trying to make me feel better it isn't working."

She sat beside him. "It's okay to hurt. You don't have to be strong all the time. Not when it comes to her."

Draco lowered his head between his knees, and shook, his face hot, and wet.

* * *

Blaise squeezed her trembling hand. He didn't need to risk opening his eyes to the swirling dust to know that she was crying. Their fates were set. The Malfoy's would face the wrath of the Dark Lord, and there was only one outcome for that. Hermione, and him would work to move on from it. They would eventually live happily ever after, but without his best mate how could that be possible? For either one of them. Blaise didn't perform Legilimency on Hermione, he didn't want to see what happened between her, and Draco, and how she felt about him. Blaise didn't need Legilimency to see that she loved him as much, or more than she loved him.

Saying it stung was an understatement. He had to believe that in time it would come together. Without Draco available perhaps she would love Blaise more. It was not the way he would have it. He would like her to have the choice, and in that choice to choose him. In the case as it was he would take any love she could offer.

When they stopped spinning Blaise realized that it wasn't only her hand that was trembling. It was his.

A/N: I like to thank everyone who is reviewing on this story, letting me know what they think. I fully appreciate it, as I always do. Thank you!


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Reunion

Hermione stumbled out of the hearth into a large under-decorated bedroom. The full bed with tucked in auburn sheets, and sparkling clean windows didn't help in making the room feel lived-in, but she was nonetheless self-conscious in shaking the grime out of her hair, and clothes.

"This is my room," Blaise explained setting the suitcase down. "Yours is much nicer, I promise."

"Mine," she asked dubiously. She had a room?

"Of course, I wasn't going to let you sleep on the floor. And you can go anywhere in the house you like. My mum doesn't exactly live here..."

Compared to how he said that she could go anywhere within the confinements of the house it was as if he was trying to show Draco up, and among that she felt the tension roll off of him when he mentioned his mom. Hermione didn't push the subject - she changed it. "So, where is my room?"

He smiled, and led her through the door, and across the narrow hallway through another. The inside stole her breath. The walls were painted a bright sky blue, the rest white such as the simple wardrobe, the desk, and chair, and the bed with sheets matching the walls.

"I know you like the color blue. It was the color of your dress at the Yule Ball."

She raised her brows surprised, "you remember that?"

He nodded. "You were the most gorgeous girl there. Every guy remembers you."

Her cheeks burned red, and she turned to run a hand over one of the four bedposts until he brought her attention back. "Do you want to know where the library is?"

"There's a library," she exclaimed. "Please!" It would be something to distract her mind from Draco. A whole new library to discover, she couldn't wait.

* * *

In small measures Harry, and Ron moved closer to Malfoy Manor. They attempted to plan a way to break in, but without Hermione they weren't very good at it. They came to the conclusion that they worked best when they jumped in. Sink, or swim.

Ron was impatient, and it drove Harry to near insanity even if he understood it. Every day that passed contained a higher chance of her being dead - if she already wasn't, a thought he banished frequently. She had to be alive. He didn't have a logical explanation behind it, he just knew she had to be. She was Hermione.

Time ticked by slowly until they were as close to the Manor as they could get. From the flap in their tent he could see the high iron gates, a concrete path leading to the five story mansion. They would wait late into the night before they broke in. Ron would look for Hermione in the cellar while Harry searched upstairs for Malfoy.

It had been decided unanimously that if Hermione was... They would kill him without question. Ron insisted that he'd be the one, but Harry wasn't going to hesitate. Ron loved Hermione, but so did he. It was only a matter of who saw the ferret first, because alive, or dead, they would avenge her.

When night fell the sky in its deepest of black, they set out. Momentarily they let their eyes adjust to the dark before moving on. They wouldn't cast Lumos, and give themselves away. Not a light in the Manor appeared to be on, but that didn't mean someone wasn't watching.

Up the winding path they made it to the front doors. They were carved in snakes typically, even the brass handle was a snake curled into a horseshoe shape. 'Alhormora,' didn't work against what he'd suspect was a dark spell of some sort at the Manor, but he tried anyhow, and found that there was no dark spell. It opened freely, the softly lit lounge welcoming them.

Harry traded a furtive glance with Ron before they walked in. It was too easy. Something was wrong. He could feel it, a chill in the air.

A slim shadow figure rose from the sofa, a pointed face sneered at them. "About time," he drawled.

* * *

Watching Potter, and Weasley's face change from surprise, to hatred, to hatred that was deadly was greet fun. Weasley swung to aim at Draco, the incantation yelled, but Potter lashed out, and the wand directed at a pure gold vase a good few feet from him. It exploded, but Draco didn't blink. His mother would faint, but that was beside the point. He'd replace it.

"Harry what d'you think -"

"Wait, Ron! Something doesn't feel right here..."

Draco smirked. "Very good, Potter. I suppose you can't spot what's missing? Or who that is."

Weasley paled. "You-son-of-a-"

"Ron!"

"She's alive," Draco sniggered. "But she's not here." He waved at the leather chairs across from the sofa he had been sitting. "Sit, and I'll explain." When they didn't move he added, "it's not a trap."

Slowly, and carefully they took seats, and Draco held out his wand to Potter, an action he never thought he'd do in his wildest dreams, he literally grimaced as if in physical pain. Potter took it apprehensively. He still looked to be in shock.

"Where is Hermione," Weasley demanded.

"No need to be hostile. I'm unarmed." He lounged back on the sofa at ease with his two enemies. Weasley proved he wouldn't hesitate to hurt him, but Potter wouldn't allow it. He was smart enough to realize that if he was dead they might not find Hermione. "First off, your friend is safe. Safer than she's ever been. Now, let me tell you what's happened since you left her, and then I'll take you to her."

* * *

The library was massive. Heavy steel bookcases were lined in twenty-five rows categorized, and in alphabetical order. Hermione fingered the titles taking some out, and flipping through them, jumping from row to row. She didn't know where to begin until she spotted Blaise at the doorway paying close attention to her mounting excitement. She ran to him hugging around his neck.

"This is fantastic!"

"And you haven't seen the rest of the house," he laughed.

"It can't be better than this."

"Maybe," he mumbled.

They stiffened in each other's embrace having the same thought. It would be better if Draco was there. If they didn't possibly see him for the last time.

"Let me show you the other rooms," he offered taking her out to the hallway.

Halfway down they froze. A burst of crackling fire could be heard in the room ahead. Draco had said that he would close the connection making it a common fireplace. If someone was coming through then that meant something prevented Draco. An attack.

They broke into a run, Blaise purposefully in front of her, and he stayed so skidding inside of the lounge. He held out his arm to prevent her from going past him, but she could see at least part of the lounge. There was a velvet tan sofa, a glass coffee table, and -

"Harry! Ron!" Hermione pushed Blaise's protective stance in front of her aside, and tackled her best friends. They stumbled backwards but held her just as tightly.

"Hermione," they both breathed.

Ron touched her arm, shoulder, cheek, and hair as though he could hardly believe she was real. Harry wavered.

"What's your biggest fear," he asked.

"Flying."

Harry beamed.

"What's the only assignment did I do for you two?"

"Astronomy," they both answered.

She squeezed them again. She was with them finally. It felt too good to be true, but reality did show her that they were thinner, dirtier, smellier, and scruffier. She didn't mind. They were with her. "Tell me everything!

Harry, and Ron looked over her head to Blaise who had come to stand behind her. "It's okay," she assured. "It really is."

* * *

Blaise could have hexed them for showing up earlier than anticipated. He was looking forward to having Hermione to himself. The house would've held a few good memories then, but no, Draco had to send them right over. He had always been a sore loser.

"It's all right, Hermione. I'll leave you to get reacquainted." He kissed her cheek enjoying the horrified expressions on Potter, and Weasley's face.

He was just inside the hallway when he heard them exclaim, "Zabini?!" If only they knew about Draco, but if he knew his best mate (and he did) he knew he gave up his wand, and tenaciously avoided the subject of him in Hermione's life as more than a host. Luckily for Bliase he would have the pleasure of their terror, because there was no avoiding his place with her.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Set Up

Hermione was glad when she was able to crawl into bed. It took ten minutes to calm Harry, and Ron down after the sight of Blaise kissing her. It took an hour to explain her side of the story carefully leaving the tangled web of emotions out of it. For the next hour, and thirty minutes she was subjected to theories behind their kindness. It was all she could do to sit there - and despite being elated at seeing them once more - not hit them. She had grown as protective as Blaise, and Draco had to her. She didn't want to hear theories. She knew the truth.

Five minutes after she laid down there was a weight change on the bed behind her, an arm slinking over her waist. "Blaise," she sighed.

"How did it go?"

"You know - you were listening." She could feel his conceited grin.

"Let me rephrase then. How are you doing?"

She bit her tongue to keep from slipping out the truth. "I'm better now. Harry, and Ron are here." It was a partial truth. She was endlessly grateful when Blaise extended his hospitality to them, and ever more pleased when they accepted. Of course it wasn't that smooth, Harry was gracious, but elbowed Ron in the ribs to force out a noise between a grunt, and a 'thanks.'

"The whole truth," Blaise prodded.

He knew her too well. "I miss Draco." The muscles in his arm bulged when she said it. She didn't say more.

"I miss him too," he admitted. "We'll all be okay."

She wished she could believe that, but after the Malfoy's courteous display of kindness there was little she believed in anymore.

* * *

Her breathing evened. She was asleep. Blaise should have left then, but he couldn't find the will. Her hair was pulled back into a mess of a ponytail, and a few strands fell across her innocent face. Her lips were parted ever so slightly. Her eyelids twitched in movement, and he contemplated on what she was dreaming about. Perhaps him?

It seemed to be too much that he was holding her in bed. Too normal. If he "accidentally" fell asleep would she be mad in the morning? Would she understand it was the closest bit of normalcy he ever had?

He decided he didn't want to know. It was a horrible night, and it couldn't be made better by lying his way to stay with her through the hours of darkness. It wasn't even lying, but... Not the whole truth. The rest was simply because he enjoyed being next to her. He didn't want to let her out of his sight.

Blaise carefully rolled off the bed checking briefly if she woke. When he saw that she hadn't he crept out of the bedroom to his own going through a panel of dark curtain to the balcony. He dug out his cigarette, and lit the end with his wand. He inhaled the burning nicotine with relish. His version of fresh air.

Below him on the grass was a red-haired weasel. He sulked along the neatly mowed yard, his hands in his pockets. He appeared to be deep in thought, but Blaise didn't care. He suppressed the idea of flicking his cigarette at him to see if he could truly light that head on fire.

He threw it to the floor stomping his foot on the tip before he could go through with his idea. Puffs of smoke curled from his nose like a dragon. As long as Hermione was with him he would make good on his promise. Potter, and Weasley would be safe.

* * *

For once Ron would like to have been the one to call the shots. It wasn't once actually, but for the millionth time through his friendship with Harry. A part of him would always be jealous, but now it was intensified.

He was glad Hermione was safe - thrilled even, but what gave Zabini the idea she was available? He had no right to move in. He would only break her heart.

Ron resented that they were staying there in the expensive house. If he had his way he would've cursed Malfoy - not like he didn't try. It was a good thing Harry stopped him. Without Malfoy (stupid ferret) they wouldn't have found her so easily. It did little to lessen the anger that was coursing through him.

He calmed himself thinking of the advantages of staying. Running water, and food. It obviously did a lot for Hermione. She was clean, and possibly more beautiful. She had meat on her bones, a change from the sickly thin figure she had been before. She was taken care of, and this more than anything was why he was so angry. He wasn't the one who had protected her. He failed at it. It was a fact that would undeniably haunt him.

Digging his trainer into the dirt he thought, _it's Harry's fault. He saved Malfoy. If he hadn't pushed -_ He stopped himself. That kind of thinking was what led him to his silence with him their fourth year, and his leaving a month ago. He wouldn't go down that road again. Harry had done the right thing. He always did.

The Zabini house wasn't as big as the Malfoy's. It wasn't as glamorous, but it was huge, with three stories, and everything like the Malfoy's was the best. Hermione might never want to leave, but he had to try. He couldn't allow them to stay there. They didn't belong. Hermione didn't belong with Zabini, she belonged with them. It was territorial, and if Hermione read his thoughts she would be furious. Ron couldn't change how he felt, and instead of trying he would find a way out. Mentally he went down a list of places they could stay.

The Shell Cottage was the first.

* * *

"He's what," Draco bellowed jumping to his feet from one of the two recliners.

His father sat behind his desk in the study calmly, his palms flat against the surface. Even his tone was steady, and it infuriated Draco. "The Dark Lord is in need of headquarters."

"So you offered him our HOUSE?!"

"Draco, compose yourself. Obviously I offered him our house. If we can extend our lifespan, or dare I say save ourselves I will do anything."

"Including killing Hermione?"

There was a short pause in which he stared down at his hands. "No one said anything about killing her."

"We were doing things that are good, _not_ helping that side! If we help them we're setting her up!"

"I have to do what is best for us."

"Father -"

"That is the end of the discussion. Leave."

Draco clenched, and unclenched his fists. He didn't care about how long he had to live. He did care about Hermione however. He could not help the person that threatened her life, but he had to. There was no choice. There was only one choice for him, and that was protecting her. He would give his life.

Down the hallway he saw the painting his father loved so dearly. Inky blackness in which ten silver eyes glowed. He took out his wand muttered a spell, and slashed the painting to ribbons. He smirked at the damage he caused lying on the floor like confetti. "Do what you need to father," he whispered, "but if turning my back on him, and this family means I'll die, well, die I must."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Death Eater Headquarters

Draco dressed in his best suit. He smiled haughtily at every Death Eater in attendance. He gave a deep bow to Voldemort when he arrived in their lounge, let his mother, and father tell him how happy they are that he selected their home out of all the ones he could have had, while Draco kept a respectable silence. He was everything he was brought up to be at the time it mattered most (to his parents). When he had his chance he escaped to his bedroom.

He was grasping for solitude, and gasping for fresh air. He was trapped in a mansion with the person that would likely murder them all. He couldn't hardly concentrate, keep his thought away from Hermione, her missed presence in the house, a constant ache in his chest.

He wasn't worried about dying, he accepted it, he was worried of what happened before he did. What if the Voldemort made him too weak to defend his mind, and he saw where Hermione, and her friends were at? He wouldn't have the time to warn Blaise, but Blaise was the one person he trusted to guard them. If he had to leave his life, and more importantly the life of Hermione in the hands of anyone he would choose Blaise without question.

Whether he lived, or died they would be okay. He did his part, he kept Hermione alive. Now it was Blaise's turn to make her happy for the rest of her life. Draco had part of her heart, and he could do one chivalrous act in his life, and let his best mate have the rest, and her future. He would be good to her. She wouldn't be left miserable. If nothing else worked out that would.

* * *

Hermione kicked her trainers off, the grass prickling her feet. Blaise rested under the shade of a thick willow tree, and she sat between his legs, her back to his chest, his arms around her waist. She opened the book she took out of the library, and flashing a grin to him she began reading, but she was easily distracted by his fingers running across her stomach, his lips to her neck suckling.

It was hard to blame him when for the past couple of days they barely had a moment together. Harry, and Ron monopolized her time. She was sure it wasn't because they were making up for lost time. No, she was sure it was because they were trying to keep Blaise from her. Two more people could play that game. Blaise gave her her wand back that morning saying that she was no longer a prisoner. She swore to Harry, and Ron that if they bothered them at all that morning she would hex them hoping that a bit of the fear she installed in their years at Hogwarts remained. Apparently it had, because they were no where to be seen though she was certain that they were watching from one of the windows.

Hermione closed her book, and enjoyed the sensations Blaise was causing on her neck. He licked his way up to her ear flicking his tongue across her lobe. They moaned together. She twisted to take his bottom lip between hers. His fingers dug bruises into her hips. _He's so different from Draco. Draco's gentler,_ she thought, and with it jerked back until she was sitting on her heels nearly falling on her back.

He reached his hand out tentatively but brought it back before he touched her as if thinking he would be burned. He looked at her horrified, almost angrily.

She shook her head. She was comparing them! Tears burned her, and she shook her head furiously. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." She repeated her apologies over, and over while she stood, and walked back to the house.

It wasn't right. It was wrong. She shouldn't have been missing Draco as much as she did. It was like losing one of her senses. Everything was off balance. She didn't feel like herself. She hastily wiped the tears from her chin. _Blaise is wonderful... But he isn't Draco..._

* * *

"She isn't happy," Harry noted observing three floors from his bedroom window Hermione walking across the ground her hand frequently touching her face. She was crying. By Zabini's confused features (Harry had to squint to see them even slightly), the way he stared after her he had nothing to do with it.

"I think we should leave," Ron voiced for the tenth time in three long days.

"Not yet. There's more going on here than we realize."

"Like what?"

"Hermione didn't tell us everything that happened at the Manor. She left out Zabini, remember?"

"What's your point?"

"What if she left out someone else?"

"Who," Ron creased his forehead thoughtfully. Then it smoothed, his mouth gaped in shock. "N-no! She wouldn't! _Malfoy?!"_

"Why not?"

"He's a Slytherin!"

"So is Zabini."

"He's _Malfoy_." He looked like he wanted to hurl.

Harry saw Hermione disappear from his view, and nodded. "I know, mate, but they kept her alive. We owe them."

"I think she's paying our debt off for the three of us!"

He flinched, and glared at him. "Ron! She's Hermione, she wouldn't do something stupid. Lets trust her on this. What choice do we have?"

Ron opened his mouth to speak, but Harry cut him off.

"Don't say Shell Cottage. We're staying here a while. Hermione... She's going through something. She needs time to sort it out."

Ron kicked the bedpost, cursing as it was harder than his toe. "It would be better if we got her away from here."

"You mean away from them."

"Yes," he hissed ruefully.

"I think they care for her... Ron, how did you feel when Hermione was taken from us?"

His ears turned bright crimson, and he looked to his tattered trainers. "What's your point?"

"For the people that kept her alive taking her from them is a hell of a way to pay them back. Hermione doesn't want to leave, I can see that. If you don't want to do them any favors look at it from this perspective: It would hurt her. I can't do it to her. Can you?"

Ron didn't answer, but Harry understood. Neither of them could cause her any further pain.

He looked back out the window to see that Zabini hadn't moved from his spot under the tree. He leaned his head back against it his arms limply over his knees. He appeared to be in despair. Harry knew the feeling.

* * *

Voldemort was hideous. His skin stretched over his bones. He had red eyes, and two slits for nostrils (there was no nose). He made Draco physically sick to look at (not to mention that he was behind his father's desk). If beauty was the price to pay for power then it wasn't worth it. Draco prided himself on his appearance, his defined abs, and arms. He looked gorgeous, irresistible in the presence of the creature he was kneeling in front of. That wasn't why he "followed" him though. It was only a detail in the way he was raised.

"Why do you think I called you here young Malfoy?"

"I do not know, my lord," he forced his voice to stay steady.

"I think you do."

Draco kept eye contact, silver to red. Voldemort couldn't read his mind, his Occlumency in strict place, his feelings shoved underneath careful passiveness honed to near perfection over the years. "No, my lord, I do not."

"Shall I explain?"

"Please do."

"I am in power of the Wizarding world. I am the Minister. Why is it then that you have your Floo Network disconnected? There is nothing that is in danger to you, especially while I am here."

"We didn't want any disturbances to you, my lord," he lied easily.

"I think you're hiding something from me. May I remind you that you're family is in grave danger of being demolished." He smiled showing off his fangs. "Do you want to explain now? The truth if you will."

"My lord, I'm telling you the truth."

"You lie!" Voldemort bellowed standing so swiftly out of the chair he was in that Draco recoiled. It was as smooth, and lethal as a rattlesnake's strike. "I have looked over who your most visited residence is. It doesn't surprise me that it is your friend Blaise Zabini. I haven't seen Zabini in a long while." He held up one long pale finger, "at first I believed that he was with one of the other Death Eaters doing a bidding of mine. I'm disappointed to say that when I looked into this I found that he is not." He hovered over to stand before the desk. "I have a theory... That you, and Zabini are keeping something from me. I don't tolerate lies, Malfoy. If you tell me the truth now I'll spare you, and your family. I cannot however say the same for your friend."

His veins became ice, cold flooding him. It was a redundant, what Voldemort said. Blaise was family, if he killed him, then he killed his family. There wasn't a choice anyhow. Voldemort wouldn't let them all survive. Perhaps his father was right, that they had the chance to redeem themselves, and lengthen their life spans. The question was if it was worth giving up his best mate, the only girl he ever loved, and her friends who he could only care for in regards to Hermione's happiness.

"I give you my word," Voldemort added.

Draco weighed his promise, but it was weighed as much as air. Once he got what he sought the promise was forgotten. There was no choice. There never was.

He stared straight into the red eyes conveying a message that Voldemort wouldn't recognize, but Potter would. "My Dark Lord, Zabini has betrayed us all. He is keeping Potter, and his friends there. He is a traitor."

The corner of his thin mouth turned up. "You support traitors, young Malfoy?"

"No, sir, I do not. Zabini trusted me with his secret, and I was going to tell you -"

"When," he spat cutting him off.

"When Potter is weakened, when he thinks he is completely safe."

The smirk transformed into a smile. "There is hope for you yet, young Malfoy."

A/N: I will state here that this story was written at the top of my head. I had no idea where I was going with this much less who she would end up with, if she would end up with either of them. So as you are reading this story keep in mind that I too didn't know.

I will update soon. I always do.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Much Too Late

Perfect. Her body. Her pink lips. Her wild untamable cinnamon mane. Her chocolate eyes hidden behind fluttering lids. She slept soundly. Peacefully despite the small noise she made that caused Blaise to stay rooted in the doorway. He only stopped by to bid her goodnight as per their ritual.

Hermione apologized ruefully, many times. He was able to assure her that it was quite all right whatever the reason was. A full frontal lie. Blaise knew what she was thinking, he had to probed her mind when she stopped responding to his kisses. He saw it there then. He knew it all along, but seeing it, feeling it, was another thing entirely.

He saw her with Draco. Saw them snogging on a floor of glass. Felt what she felt. It was love. He couldn't imagine anything stronger than that. He felt sick to his stomach, he wanted to hurl, or hurl something. It must've been hell for Draco to witness their first kiss. He had a new respect for him, because he didn't think he could stand it. It took every bit of him to control it.

Against the frame of the door balled his hand into a fist. He wanted nothing more than to lie down with her. There were other thoughts of her waking, of letting him become the one to claim her. It wasn't a question whether she would return to Draco, and he wanted some part of her. She loved him, but it wasn't the love she had for Draco. How he wished it was.

If she would let him... It didn't mean that she was his. He could claim that part of her, but he couldn't her heart, and that was all that mattered. He was hopelessly, utterly in love with her. He was second choice, and it wasn't a lack of self-esteem that kept him from holding on to that, he made Draco look modest. No, it was that he would have any part of her he could. If that meant being a friend, or be the one if Draco... He shook out that thought. He would take it - her.

Blaise memorized every detail of what laid before him the, way the thin sheet laid over her, her hair splayed over the crisp white pillow. He closed his eyes, and pictured it. Kept it. It was his. No one could take that away.

* * *

Harry watched Zabini watch Hermione sleep. Zabini didn't know he was standing there, Harry's thin form concealed in the shadows. He meant to steal a few minutes with Hermione before going to bed, but he saw Zabini standing there in the doorway, not talking, simply looking on her slumber like a caring bodyguard. It intrigued him, and without making a clear decision to he stayed.

It was the most quiet he had all day. Ron's perseverance in leaving was leading him into more insanity that Voldemort did. If he didn't have to save the world from the most evil Wizard of all time he would have beat his head against the wall. He began to wonder if it was worth staying, but the sight that was greeting him made him certain that it was.

Before Zabini turned around, or got the inkling that Harry was there Harry sulked further into the gloom. Three doors down he went to his own room that was much too big, and laid on the bed that was also too big, but didn't take up a third of the room.

That's when it happened. A sharp pain in his scar, a burning, his eyes altering from their green to red. Voldemort's. He was in his head again. He couldn't locate his body, and he couldn't recall where he was. _I'm Harry_, he repeated assuring that he wasn't indeed the snake-faced man he felt he was. _I'm Harry_.

_Draco knelt before him, his features clear of all emotion._

_"I have a theory..." His mouth moved, words coming out in a voice that wasn't his. "That you, and Zabini are keeping something from me. I don't tolerate lies, Malfoy. If you tell me the truth now I'll spare you, and your family. I cannot however say the same for your friend. I give you my word."_

_A flash of remorse, and the fraught need to be understood crossed his visage, emotions that Voldemort didn't see, but Harry did. "My Dark Lord, Zabini has betrayed us all. He is keeping Potter, and his friends there. He is a traitor."_

_"You support traitors, young Malfoy?"_

_"No, sir, I do not. Zabini trusted me with his secret, and I was going to tell you -"_

_"When?!"_

_"When Potter is weakened, when he thinks he is completely safe."_

_He was elated. There were thoughts of killing Potter, his friends, Zabini, and then the Malfoys. "There is hope for you yet, young Malfoy."_

Harry bolted straight in the bed sweat pouring from his hairline to his chin. He took his wand out of his pocket holding it securely in his hand, and ran next door barging through. "Ron," he yelled shaking his snoring friend awake. "RON!"

"Wha - Whasisit?"

Harry felt his breath erratic the sweat now to his neck. "He's coming!"

Ron cursed loudly throwing the covers off. He was fully dressed, his trainers on. A habit they formed since their tent was attacked. Harry was out of there before he was out of bed however running back to Zabini who remained in his stone stance at Hermione's door.

Harry snatched his arm in a vice grip, "he's coming!"

Zabini jerked out of his hold. "What the hell are you talking about, Potter?"

"He's coming," he gasped his shoulder being knocked as Ron ran past him into Hermione's room. He could hear him croak, "Hermione, get up! It's time to leave! He's coming!"

"He's..." Zabini came out of his shocked daze, and ran into Hermione's room too.

* * *

First there was Ron pulling the sheet from her dragging her out of bed, and soon after Blaise was hauling her out of the room. She was barely awake, and stumbled after him.

"Blaise," she said in a raspy early morning voice trying to clear the fog from her mind to decipher exactly what Ron was yelling about.

"We've got to get out of here, we don't have time."

"Oh," she breathed winded by the recognition of what they were all yelling. "Oh, no, no." He was coming. Voldemort was coming. "Draco..."

Blaise didn't hear this, he was taking in her nightgown, and bare feet. He hoisted her over his shoulder his fingers digging into the flesh of her leg. "Hold onto me," he ordered unnecessarily. She was already holding his waist her hands sliding awkwardly over the materiel of his robe. "Lets go," he told the others.

"Why don't we disapparate," Ron asked.

"It's disabled as an apparation point. They'll be coming in from the fireplace in the lounge. We best go this way, through the back."

Hermione was jostled as they ran. Her hair fell in front of her face, and unable to stand not seeing what was happening she gathered it in a handful to the side. The hallway was dark. No one was there. Yet.

Blaise's elbow dug into her stomach, and with the bounce of his run she was winded. She gasped for breath holding tight enough that her nails were clawing in her palms through the hold of his robe. There was the pounding of their trainers but all she could hear was the roaring like ocean waves in a seashell.

Ron keeping pace beside them handed her her wand. She felt the wood fitting in her grasp perfectly. It comforted her, she had something to fight back, and she wanted to fight. Someone had to pay for whatever happened to Draco. She was going to be the one that would receive the debt.

In the darkness were rustling shadows. She pinched Blaise's waist. "Blaise," she wheezed in warning.

He glanced behind them, and cursed as he saw the shadows too.

"We've got it, get her out," Harry urged. Him, and Ron stopped to face the oncoming threat.

Blaise didn't argue, he ran down a flight of steps to his right. He went through another door, and sweet cold air brushed her face. She tried to suck in a sufficient amount of breath to tell him to set her down. She had to fight.

The moment he set her on her feet, the damp grass wetting her feet sticking between her toes, she began to run for the door, but he caught her quickly around her waist. "Don't," he hushed. "Wait here."

"I have to fight," she panted. "I can't leave them in there."

"You're in your nightgown, Hermione."

"So what?"

He winced at a thought she considered to be painful, and disgusted. She didn't want to know why he looked like that. It involved Death Eaters, and she suddenly had the vision of that woman at the Quidditch field all those years ago, hanging upside down with her family... "Relax, let them handle this. They can do it without you. There aren't many of them. Three at the most."

She huffed indignantly. Yes, they could handle themselves, but they got into less trouble when she was involved. "We'll wait here," she compromised.

"We're not leaving them." His tone was kind, but there was the usual bitterness he had when he talked of abandoning.

Hermione was unperturbed by him. She stared at the door waiting for it to open. Her wand hung uselessly at her side. She calmed her anger with the promise that next time, no matter what she was wearing, or who she was with she would fight with them. Right then it was best she didn't get involve. Her brain wasn't working properly. What if she was fighting Draco?

She only came out of her reverie when she felt Blaise's finger swipe her cheek, and there on the tip was a drop of the tears she didn't realize she was making.

Her heart wrenched itself from her chest. She half-expected him to be there going to wherever they were headed. If he wasn't out there with them, then he was inside fighting Harry, and Ron. If he wasn't inside then... She didn't want to think of it. She wouldn't. Draco couldn't be...

"Hermione..."

She turned her head slightly to bury it in his chest. He held her, stroking her back, and hair. He swayed them side to side as her world came to a screeching halt. He was the only thing holding her up. She was drowning in her own foolishness. She couldn't ignore it. She had to be honest with herself. She was in love with Draco Malfoy, and now it was much too late.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

Carve It In Stone

Ron got his way, but it was by force. When they ran out of the house Ron was the first to apparate them, and it was to the Shell Cottage. Harry didn't fight him this time. They had to leave, and he couldn't ask for a better place. The cottage sweet with its thatched roof, and smooth white stone. An ocean was nearby, a cliff over-looking the blue-green waves. More over they had it to themselves. Mrs. Weasley insisted that the whole family stay at their Great-aunt Muriel's. They only knew this because when Ron left, it was where he stayed.

Three days had passed since they escaped from Zabini's house. An uncomfortable, and respectable silence filled the air. Ron grumbled, and aimlessly would kick the legs of chairs, and sofa's randomly, but Harry remained calm. For Ron there was only one conclusion to how the Death Eaters found them, and that was Malfoy. Harry got his two cents in pressing his side that it was Malfoy, but he had to, and he had tried to give them a message through him. Ron wouldn't hear of it, but he expected as much.

Harry was more concerned for Hermione who had stayed shut in the spare bedroom upstairs. Ron once tried to talk with her, but by a spell was thrown out of the door, hitting the wall of the hallway.

Zabini busied himself. He made three meals a day for Hermione despite that she wouldn't touch them. He cleaned, and went through the books in the lounge. When there was nothing for him to do he sat on the cliff. Ron contemplated aloud how easy it would be to push him over. Harry kept a closer eye on him after that. Killing Zabini would only delve Hermione further into her depression over Malfoy's death.

Malfoy's death... He had to tell them what Voldemort felt. He was going to kill Malfoy, and there would be nothing to stop them, Voldemort wouldn't care who he murdered first. If they went there to save him they would only be killed too. Hermione understood that. She had to, it was logical.

The empty bowl that a few minutes ago had been filled with broth was taken from the table, Zabini instantly washing it. By hand. He did everything by hand. It kept him busy, Harry knew that for he spent most of his life doing things by hand. By the sink laid a tray of the same thing, and once the bowl, and spoon were washed, he took it going up the stairs outside of the kitchen door.

Harry brought out the snitch he kept in his pocket. He turned it over, fingering the still wings. He had to figure it out before anyone else died. He didn't care for Malfoy other than he had protected one of the most important people to him, but his death was her death as well. He wanted her back.

* * *

Hermione curled herself in a disproportioned ball at the window-seat her chin on her knees. The fog had lifted from the morning. The crashing waves an unheard noise to her.

She was a prisoner all over again. Except this time she had no choices. Once she had figured out what she wanted it was gone. In a matter of seconds. Ron must've been happy, the smile on his face infuriated her, and she hexed him out of the room yesterday. She assumed he was all right for he cursed so loud that it echoed in her ears. Harry knew she needed space, and he gave it to her. Blaise gave her meals claiming that she needed to eat, but didn't comfort her. He was wallowing in his own grief. She saw him sitting at the cliffs edge a lot. She couldn't grasp it... Why didn't she have the same feeling for him that he had for her? Why was Draco the only one to make her heart unreasonably out of control?

She didn't take off the bracelet given by him. She fingered it idly feeling the design of the dragon, and heart. It was the closest she could be to touching him, to letting him know how she felt. The words she never told him, it pained her. It was a physical pain in her chest where her heart would've been. It didn't feel like it was there anymore.

A ritual developed over the past three days that felt more like three centuries, Blaise delivering food to her. As per routine a tray was set with a slight clatter on the nightstand by the bed the covers slightly wrinkled, but not undone as Hermione had only slept on it, instead of in it.

"Hermione," Blaise whispered a hand on her shoulder that she didn't have the heart to push off. "You have to eat, love."

She only shook her head.

He bent to inhale the scent of her hair, and kissed the part formed down her scalp. "Please... For me."

"Why," she croaked in a voice that hadn't been used for days.

"Because I lost my best mate. Don't make me lose you too."

Tears prickled her eyes, but she didn't look away from the window, not even when he sat next to her, his hand moving from her shoulder to her knee.

"I know you're in love with him."

Shocked she stared at him.

"It's okay," he strained.

She shoved his hand this time standing to her feet in anger. "How can you say that? How can you think that any of this is okay?"

"It's not... I'm saying... I'm okay with your feelings for him..."

"How?"

There was a short pause before he stood towering over her. "We love you enough to let you choose. We want you to be happy whoever that is with." He brushed her hair past her shoulder. "I miss him too, Hermione. You still have a choice. You don't have to be with me."

Hermione felt for him then. How terrible must it be to lose a best friend your girlfriend was in love with. She would be lucky to have Blaise. She could have him, and she could learn to be happy with it. Draco would want it. With that thought she balanced herself on the tips of her toes and kissed him.

He was gentle in the way he held the sides of her face, in how he pressed her to the wall. It wasn't like Draco. He was being gentle because he saw her as breakable. It was different, and it didn't send her heart racing, but it was comfortable.

When they parted she asked, "do you want me?"

"Yes."

"No matter how I feel?"

He smirked with little feeling. "If you can be happier with anyone but me, I won't stand in your way. I however won't ever tell you to leave. Carve my promise in stone."

She kissed him once more. Her heart a steady beat. "No need, I don't think I can leave." She really didn't think she could. There was something to say about bonding in despair. It was unbreakable.

* * *

Harry placed the snitch into the safety of his pocket. Ron came in at the moment, and poured himself tea, but one sip and he was spitting it out in the sink gagging.

"I find it difficult to believe you're still single," he joked.

"Oh shut it, Harry. Ugh, this stuff is terrible."

"Zabini made it. He has been out of sorts. The broth was cold, and I think there was lemonade in it." He made a face.

Ron didn't respond. He left the cup in the sink, and sat across from him. "What's the plan?"

"You-Know-Who has taken one item from the founder of each House," he thought out loud. "Hufflepuff had the cup."

"Gryffindor the sword."

"Slytherin the locket. That leaves Ravenclaw... I don't know what it is, but I think... We should go back to Hogwarts."

Ron picked at the table. "Should we let Hermione come?"

"She'll want to."

"Should we let her?"

Harry smiled sadly. "She'll want revenge. In this state... She'll fight better than all of us put together. I might not even have to kill You-Know-Who." He chuckled darkly.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

Flying

Old comfortable trainers. Blue jeans. A thin green shirt. Hermione pulled her hair back into a ponytail. She put on a black cloak fastening the buttoning at her neck. They were going to Hogwarts to look for whatever it was of Ravenclaw's that was now a Horcrux.

The past week had been calming for her. The pain didn't lessen, but when she was with Blaise it seemed as though her future was brightened in the slightest. She didn't have the darkness to look forward to with him. There was a choice, and between a life in demoralize, or one that was still disheartened, but hopeful she would choose the latter. Draco would have wanted her to. He couldn't live, and now it was time to live for him.

She met Harry, Ron, and Blaise downstairs in the kitchen, all of them dressed in similar cloaks. Ron scowled when Blaise gave her a chaste kiss, but he was ignored as usual.

Outside in the fresh sea air they pulled their hoods over their heads partially covering their faces. They joined hands, Ron, Harry, her, and Blaise. They stood together forming a line, and Ron refusing anyone to take the reins - least of all Blaise - disapparated them.

Hermione held her breath remembering being squeezed in the awful tube though it had been a long time. She closed her eyes against the swimming colors passing her, and then they landed. She exhaled in relief.

Over the rolling green hills stood a castle with towering turrets, and aged stone. A lake was someplace unseen, but the Forbidden Forest could be distinguished vaguely in the distance. It looked unchanged since last year when they left to search for the Horcruxes. So much had changed, she didn't feel like she belonged there anymore. She felt like she had decades worth of birthdays.

Harry, and Ron took the league up the hill slipping through the seven foot tall steel gates. Blaise squeezed her hand comfortingly, and they followed blindly behind. Hermione felt her shoes sink slightly into the damp earth, ions on the tip of her tongue, ones different from the sea, less salty. They had climbed the hill, the land of her old school becoming clearer.

By Hagrid's hut which looked empty with the lights off, and silent from Fang's booming barks was a dark outline of someone. They halted where they were at, Harry holding out his arms to warn them not to pass. The shadow caught sight of them, and started running up.

They each took out their wands in front of them. "Wait," Harry ordered. "Wait to see who it is..."

The closer the shadow came the more obvious it was to identify him. "Neville," Hermione sighed. "It's Neville, lower your wands."

The boys did as she said, and Neville masked in scars, old, and fresh bounded in front of them let his own wand fall to his side. "Harry," he asked dubiously as if he could be imagining him. "Ron, Hermione -" His eyes narrowed at the fourth person in their company. "Zabini?"

Harry immediately began rattling. "My name is Harry Potter, we shared a dorm, you have a toad named Trevor. You're in the DA."

Neville grinned. He was missing a tooth. "You started the DA, our leader. It stands for Dumbledore's Army - it was Ginny's idea. Hermione helped me pass Potions." He laughed, and shook hands with Harry, Ron, and gave Hermione a hug. He shared a glare with Blaise. "I knew you'd be back," he told Harry. "I told everyone that you were coming. Some didn't believe me of course, but I knew it - I did! Come with me, keep quiet, mind you, we don't want to wake the Carrows."

"What's been going on here, Neville, what are all those scars," Hermione surveyed him sadly.

"I'll explain on the way." He looked hesitantly at Blaise.

"He's with us," she said quickly. "It's a long story. Please, go on, Neville."

Neville lead them across the grounds, and into the castle telling his story along the way not able to stop himself by scrutinizing Blaise out of the corner of his eye.

The Carrows, arrogant Death Eaters took over the school with Snape as headmaster. They tortured the students, used evil curses as punishments. Neville himself had gotten into many scrapes. He finally learned to stand up for himself, but now it was at a cost. He was proud of it though, he gushed as he told them about the reassembled Dumbledore's Army.

* * *

Seven flights of stairs later they gathered outside of a materialized door known as the Room of Requirement. Blaise knew it from his time in the Inquisitorial Squad as the meeting place of the DA as they called it.

He was contemplating on whether he should go in when there was a burning in his pocket. It was like the side of his leg was on fire. He freed his hand of Hermione's, and reached inside for the scalding bit of glass.

"What's wrong," Hermione asked.

"Nothing, go on, I'll be out here waiting." He kept his hand inside of his pocket, carefully away from the glass.

"We can't leave you out here alone -"

"No one will bother me. I doubt anyone told the Carrow's about me. Potter's been too close to capture to let them in on every time. Don't worry."

"Come on," Neville urged holding the door open for them, a stream of flickering light pooling out. They stepped inside, Hermione pausing for several seconds before Neville pulled her along.

Once the door closed he brought out the mirror, and nearly dropped it when he saw not his reflection, but someone else's pointed face. The last face he expected to see again.

Years ago Blaise, and Draco bought a very expensive way of communication. It was through two round pieces of glass. It was to waste money at the time, but as they got older, and deeper into the dark arts it became very handy. Since Draco's death he didn't need it anymore, but he kept it with him out of habit, and possibly nostalgia.

The man in the mirror smirked so familiarly. "Wow, Blaise, I never thought I'd see the day you were as white as me!"

"D-Draco?"

"Draco Lucius Malfoy, we've known each other all of our lives. I gave you a bleeding book last Christmas. You have my girlfriend? Hermione?" His face turned serious. "How is she? Is she okay?"

Blaise coughed out the lump forming in his throat. His friend was alive. He shouldn't be surprised, Draco could get out of anything… But seeing him... Blaise controlled his bursting emotions to focus on what really needed to be said. "She's fine, mate. She's with the D.A. right now. We're in Hogwarts. Where are you at? How are you even -"

"Alive. Yes, interesting that the Dark Lord was so excited to hear that Potter was nearby that he went straight ahead with his best men to take care of him. My family, and I made our escape then, you see? I can't tell you where we're at though, but I can say that I'll be there in moments. Get outside with Hermione. We're leaving."

"Wait, Draco," Blaise whispered hectically. "Why are we leaving?"

"Damn it, Blaise you've been with them too long! Potter tripped the alarm made for him! High advanced magic, the Dark Lord did it himself! If you want to fight, go ahead, but bring Hermione out, because she's not going to be in the midst of this!"

"She can take care of herself, Draco!"

"I've lost her once, I'm not losing her again. Do as I say, Blaise!"

"Over my dead body," he hissed.

"Zab -"

Blaise spun throwing the glass against the stone wall shattering it. "Sorry, mate. She would've never gone anyway." It was up to him to see to her. To protect her. No harm would come to her, but he wouldn't make her any unhappier than she already was. If fighting was what made her happy, then she would fight, and she would live. If at the end of it... If she wanted Draco... Blaise shook his head of such thoughts, and drew out his wand to clean up the glass evidence.

_Sorry, Draco. She would've never gone._

* * *

Harry, and Ron searched the castle for Ravenclaw's diadem. Hermione stayed close by them until a curse whizzed by her ear, and she turned to fight. She battled a middle-aged guy with overgrown eyebrows. She yelled for Harry, and Ron to get a move on, and they did. With Blaise at her side they battled out onto the grounds.

Night had continued chilling the air. Her hood fell down, her hair pulled in its ponytail whipped her face, her cloak billowing. They were pushed closer to the forests edge, but they didn't stop fighting. Sweat beaded her forehead, and her arm grew tired of the required spell movements. Her breath was ragged, her throat sore. She didn't let up though. These people were responsible for Draco's death. She would make them pay. Every single last one of them if it was the only thing she did.

A woman with crazy gray hair fell at a hex Hermione sent. Out of the corner of her eye she saw an approaching man, a wild glint in his dead eye coming towards Blaise. He looked weak, but before Hermione could face him she was sent sprawling back hitting a thick tree behind her.

Her head felt like it was being split open, it dulled the rest of the bruised pain of her body. She felt the back of her head. Something warm, and wet. Sticky. She was bleeding. The war blurred in her vision. The lights, cries, and screams. The fallen.

"Hermione!"

She cracked open an eye. She was dead. She had to be. "Draco," she croaked, tears stinging.

"Hermione, come on, I'm getting you out of here."

"Please," she begged. Wherever Draco was it couldn't be half-bad. She was tired of fighting, of hiding, of being locked away. She was tired of looking forward to a bleak future as opposed to one that could've been everything.

She was lifted into someone's arms. There was a sharp pain in her skull, but it would go soon, because Draco was taking her. Death couldn't be painful, there had to be a sort of peace, right?

"Blaise," Draco yelled. "Come on!"

"No! Get her out of here. I've got this!"

She was flying, wind blowing around her drying the blood into her hair. She hated flying, it was frightening being so far above the ground, but this time it was liberating. She was leaving. She cried for Harry, and Ron. For Blaise. For everyone that was still down there, but they would be okay. She was with Draco. She was okay. Finally.

* * *

It wasn't the Malfoy Manor, but it had been home lately. The simple one story house sat as far back in the woods as possible. There was no path of any kind to lead anyone to the drab building. Even on a broom it was difficult to spot. Draco still had to fly by five times before he spotted it.

Blood smeared on his arm where Hermione laid her head. She was fast asleep, lavender eyelids, black circles. She looked like... Hell. But she remained beautiful. He had her. In his arms. For the moment, until Blaise took her back. For the moment she was his. He didn't think he'd ever hold her, though if he were to imagine it, it wouldn't involve blood, a concussion, or a war.

He landed as smooth as he could on the rocky ground. Dropping his broom he ran inside, only slightly jostling her. He pulled her against his chest in attempt to keep her still.

The second he was inside lightly lit lounge he was attacked. His father rushed forward relieving him of Hermione, and his mother touched his cheek, and arms, fussing over any injuries he might have sustained.

"I'm okay, mother. Really, I am. Hermione's the one -"

"Hermione," she gasped rushing to the girls side on the sofa.

His father felt the back of her head coming back with fresh blood on his fingers. He waved his wand, and ordered Draco to get a wet cloth.

In the kitchen, darker than the lounge he realized his hands were shaking. Under the tap the blood flowed pink down the drain. He breathed steadily, focusing his hands to remain as steady, but they weren't cooperating, and Hermione wasn't getting any better, so he abandoned his efforts, and handed the damp cloth to his father.

"She'll be all right," his father promised.

Draco nodded curtly. "I'm going back."

His mother's head snapped towards him in shock. "What're you talking about? You can't go back! There is a war going on!"

"Blaise is out there. So are her friends. I've got to go, mother. I've got to help."

"You don't care anything for Potter!"

"No, but I care for her!"

"Narcissa," his father warned. "Let him go."

His mother looked like she would cry. Draco bent, and kissed her cheek, turning to kiss Hermione's slick forehead. He clapped his father's shoulder. "Take care of them," he told him, and fetched his broom from outside of the door where he left it.

He gave one last look to his family's temporary hiding place, and the Witch he loved that took refuge in it. If he couldn't survive the impossible once more, he would see that Blaise would. He wouldn't have her lose both of them, or the war. He didn't want to leave her again, it caused him physical pain to do so, but if his best mate died without his help then that physical pain would only last.

A/N: Yes, I didn't kill off Draco. I think I can hear the distant cheers, haha.

One more chapter to go.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

Homecoming

Hermione sat on the comfy seat by the bay window. She waited for her friends, her love. Narcissa stood outside her head towards the sky waiting for her son to return home. Lucius fiddled with the dials on the wireless hoping for some news of the war, but it was all white noise.

She couldn't believe it. Draco was alive. She quite literally couldn't believe that it could be true, though his parents that were also supposedly dead were there with her. She didn't have such good fortune for her only love to be alive. She rested her head against the cool glass waiting impatiently for brooms, and her friends. Once the war was over they were to come. If Draco, and Blaise survived. They had to, but she shook her head at that unruly thought, because it was the same thought she had about Draco. He could escape death's clutches once, but could he do it for a second time? Rich, beautiful, and deadly, the Malfoy's luck was bound to run out.

Most of the sky was covered by the tops of the trees. Between the leaves she could see the lighting of the sky. Dawn had come. A new day. If the war was over, they would be collecting more of the dead. The sun had a power of its own showing the ugly side of things that the darkness hid.

Lucius smacked the wireless in frustration, cursed, and apologized hastily at his inexcusable language in front of a lady. She shrugged. Harry, and Ron cursed way too much for anyone to apologies to her. How she would miss Ron's unmanageable tongue if he didn't come back. A stab of pain echoed inside of her.

Then the light was blocked by shadows, hiding the new blue of the sky. Hermione jumped up, and so did Lucius, but he held her arm keeping her from the door. "Wait," he hissed. "It might not be them. Stay here, I have to get Narcissa." He ran outside leaving Hermione to press her hands on the glass attempting to get a better view of their visitors.

_Please let it be them_, she begged.

The shadows became outlines, more descriptive. Four brooms, four people. She could hardly contain herself, and her nose was barely a hair-width from the glass. _Please_. They landed, and they were clear in their brutal fashion of torn robes, and blood, but she was beyond ecstatic, her heart soaring lengths she didn't know existed. Narcissa, and Lucius hugged their son, and Hermione flew out the door strangling Harry, and Ron's necks.

"You're okay," she squealed.

"We're fine," Ron choked out.

"We won, Hermione, everything is fine. Voldemort's gone."

"We're safe," she wept into their shoulders feeling their arms tighten. She kissed both of their cheeks, and saw between their heads Draco, and Blaise standing awkwardly watching her. In her single-mindness on whether they would come home she didn't think of what she would do about them. There was no choice really, not this time. She knew who she wanted, who she always wanted.

She let go of her friends, and stepped up to them. Blaise nodded in painful understanding, and stepped back. She mouthed, "thank you," and darted to Draco flinging her arms around him, burying her head between his neck, and shoulder.

He held her waist lifting her off her feet. "I love you, Hermione," he breathed in her ear.

"I love you, Draco."

* * *

Of all the injuries Blaise suffered that night, and the days before it, the sight he saw was far worse, but he smiled. It might've been in recognized agony, but he saw that they were in love, and he couldn't argue with that. Draco, and Hermione clung to each other, Draco planting kisses on her neck, and cheek, and then her lips.

Blaise wasn't the only one who looked sick. Potter, and Weasley looked as though they would keel over. Interesting in how well they held up through the fighting that night, but couldn't handle a snog between their enemy, and best friend. Lowly he chuckled to himself.

Blaise pulled out his battered case of cigarettes, sliding out one, and lighting it with the tip of his wand. Smoke curled from his mouth, and nose. The nicotine claimed him - calmed him. He might become a chain smoker if they kept that up in public. Who was he kidding? He was risking it at any rate.

He didn't know if he'd ever get over Hermione. It wasn't looking good, the way his guts were wrenched out, and sprawled for everyone to see. However, he would take great pleasure when they had their first born son, because as for the deal he made with Draco he had to respect the turning of tables. He grinned at that, and pretended he was okay. Hermione was alive, and happy. He'd done the job he had set out to do what felt like years ago. That was enough for him, forever. No matter what was to happen.

* * *

Draco inhaled her sweet scent of cocoa butter. He couldn't, and would never be able to get enough of her. He didn't know if it was physically possible to put her down. He didn't want to anyway, and if it was any inclination of the way she was cleaving to him then she didn't want to let go either.

He could see Blaise out of the corner of his eye. He wasn't happy, there was a tortured look to his expression that he didn't have even during the war. He would know, they fought beside each other. There was no guarantee that he ever would be happy, not the way he was with Hermione. It ached Draco to see him like that, but it was Hermione's choice. Who was he to deny what they both wanted?

There was a smirk to his friend, and he understood what he was thinking without using Legilimency. The tables were turned, and Draco owed his son's namesake to him. Oh well, he had Hermione, he could have the name, but he mouthed, "thank you," anyhow. Blaise nodded in response.

Sometimes in life a person was granted with choices. Sometimes they weren't. Sometimes it ended badly, and others it ended blissfully. Sometimes there was no middle-ground.

A/N: Thank you for all the wonderful reviews, as well as to any future reviewers. This story holds a special place since it is my first love triangle, and my first attempt at so many different points of views. I don't mean just in fan fiction, but at all.

Again, thank you. I really appreciate it.


	17. Epilogue

Epilogue

Hermione held her baby boy draped in a sky blue blanket in her arms. She kissed his forehead, his round rosy cheeks. He was perfect, and she couldn't be happier. Her own baby boy with Draco's eyes, tufts of his blond hair, and her own features in the shape of her nose, ears, and chin.

It had been three years since the downfall of Voldemort. Her, and Draco married shortly after that fateful day. It remained clear in her mind how she ran up to him, how they kissed. It still sent chills through her. Choosing him couldn't have a better fairytale ending, and it wasn't even the ending.

She looked up to the loved ones gathered around her bed. Draco close to her side, Blaise beside him, and Harry, Neville, Lucius, Narcissa, and most of the Weasley clan (Molly, Arthur, Ron, George, and Ginny) around them. She beamed at Draco.

Draco, and her made a deal within the first three months of her pregnancy. They would not find out the sex, nor would they choose a name until they saw their baby. Everything would remain a surprise. "What will we name him," she finally asked.

Draco's smile suddenly slipped, and he glanced nervously to Blaise as if for help. She didn't understand their furtive looks, or the grin that was spreading on Blaise's face.

"What – what is it," she demanded worriedly as Draco stroked her hair.

"We already picked out the name," Blaise replied smugly.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "What do you mean? Why would you pick out our baby's name?"

"Hermione –"

"Hush, Draco, let me enjoy this," Blaise laughed elbowing his friend in the ribs. "Do you remember when we were guarding you," he asked Hermione.

"How could I forget," she mumbled, "and it wasn't guarding it was holding me hostage."

"However you look at it," he shrugged. "Anyhow, when you were still undecided between Draco, and myself, we made a deal. To make it up to each other we would name the first born son after the other. For instance if that was my son his name would be Draco." He wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Thank you for not choosing me, Hermione."

"What?" She glared at Draco who was sending off thick waves of guilt. "You decided this three years ago? When we weren't even dating!" She breathed trying to keep her voice calm. Her beautiful baby had just fallen asleep, his gray eyes closed. She didn't want to wake him. "You two were that confident that I would be with one of you?" She felt like she would explode nonetheless.

"To be fair, you did."

"Shut up, Ronald!"

"Mate, watch it, their hormones –"

"Harry," Ginny warned her husband dangerously her hand on her protruding stomach.

Hermione barely noticed them, or anyone else's shocked features as she was blazing so furiously at her own husband, and friend that they took several steps back to the white wall of her room in St. Mungo's.

"Come on, Hermione, is my name that bad?"

"That isn't the point, Blaise, you didn't even tell me about this!"

"We're sorry, really we are," he told her earnestly. "It was a silly agreement years ago. You don't have to follow it. We were just trying to make ourselves feel better, that's all."

Hermione glimpsed down to check that her boy was sleeping, and he was, puffs of breaths moving his small lips. It was her mouth she decided easily. She decided something else too. "Blaise is a nice name…"

Draco, having concluded that it was safe to be near her again sat on the bed next to her. "Are you sure? You don't have to."

She grinned. "What better way to show gratitude to my other best kidnapper than to name my child after him? It's my choice." She winked to Blaise, and he grinned.

She held baby Blaise closer to her inhaling his sweet scent.

"What shall his middle name be?" Draco touched his son's cheek thoughtfully.

"Give him something normal to fall back on," Ron called before Molly swatted his shoulder.

Hermione laughed. "That's a good idea, Ron." She kissed baby Blaise's forehead again. "Draco."

"Yes?"

She chuckled, "no, his middle name. Draco."

"So much for normalcy," Ron said before dodging the second swat from Molly, he however wasn't able to escape the second that came from Ginny, and he rubbed the back of his head sulkily.

"Blaise Draco Malfoy," she whispered before kissing Draco's lips, and bringing it to her son's hand. Their son.

A/N: This epilogue was written for Comforting-MindReader. She has asked very nicely to have an epilogue, and I couldn't find the heart to say no so here it is. It's not much, but I hope it's suitable.


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